Chapter Twelve - A New Enemy
The night passed slowly. Each minute like an hour and with every breath of the frozen night air they expected the door to be kicked down and soldiers to storm inside.
Yet no one came. It was only the fear of being caught that terrified Katka and Paul through the night. And so they listened for the sound of boots on the gravel outside, the slow tread of someone searching, looking in every dark corner, every recess.
‘They’ll kill us if they find us.’ muttered Paul, speaking into the frozen darkness. It was cold beyond cold and cruel draft blew in from outside, making Paul’s teeth chatter like teacups on tray, and occasionally his whole torso would shake against the cold. Katka held onto him tightly to keep him warm, to keep herself warm too.
Yes, they will kill us, thought Katka, but it might be worse, because we’re resistance now. Yet she dared not say this aloud to Paul. This thought she kept to herself, the pride that she had done something, that it wasn’t her that had stood idly by and watched.
For a long time neither Katka nor Paul spoke, they dared not. But when it sounded as if the soldiers had gone, when there were no more footsteps on the gravel and they had heard the sound of a truck starting its engine, the scent of its diesel fuel choking the scentless winter air, Katka said, ‘I think they’ve gone now. I think it’s safe to go outside.’
Paul didn’t reply.
‘Come on.’ Katka said, getting up and slowly moving towards the door.
‘Wait!’ Paul said, speaking so suddenly Katka at once stopped. She was standing by the door and had her hand stretched out to take hold of the handle,
‘They might still be outside.’ he said, they might just be waiting.’
‘A trap, you mean?’ Katka said, but nevertheless she carefully eased open the heavy wooden door to look outside. It scraped painfully on the concrete floor.
The sound must have startled Paul because suddenly he was sitting bolt upright and ‘Quiet!’ he hissed, fear sounded in his voice.
Katka let go of the door.
For a second they both waited, stock still like figures in a painting, as dirty as the room they were hiding in, and they waited until there was no noise except the sound of their own breathing and the sound of the truck’s engine as it strained out through the train yard exit was gone completely.
‘Now?’ Katka asked, speaking quietly and uncertainly and looking out through the gap in the door.
‘We can’t. Katka.’ Paul said, his voice much louder because in the moment that had passed he had got up and walked to where Katka was standing. ‘We can’t go outside.’ he said, ‘If there are soldiers still out there we won’t stand a chance, they want us dead.’ and then he placed his hand gently on Katka’s shoulder, ‘Katka, please.’ he said again, ‘Sit down and wait.’
The gesture had been meant to calm Katka but instead she felt a wave of anger suddenly rise up inside her. Starting in her stomach and rising to her throat like a great knot that seemed to cut off the air to her lungs, ‘Get off me.’ she snapped, knocking his hands away, ‘We’re getting out of here, we’ll fight them if we have to. Now give me my gun, I’ll not cower here until they find us!’
The force of Katka’s words seemed to hit Paul like a blow. He pulled his hands back and stepped away, but pleadingly he went on, ‘Just wait, Katka, please. If they haven’t found us yet then we just need to wait till morning, we just need to survive -’
‘No,’ Katka replied at once, she didn’t want to hear any more, ‘That’s not how it works now, not anymore. We can’t just survive, not after what we’ve just done. Can’t you see? We’ve crossed a line, we’re part of the resistance now.’
‘What?’ Paul spat, and despite the panicked expression in his eyes, a laugh almost sounded in is voice, ‘What do you mean, resistance? We’re not resistance.’
‘And you think the Germans will think that if they catch us? You think they’ll take the time to see how committed we are before putting us against a wall and shooting us?’
Paul shook his head, frantic like a rag doll, ‘We need to stay alive, we need to survive, Katka. They kill us -’
‘Worse. They’ll torture us first, they won’t believe we’ve only just got involved, that we didn’t mean for this to happen.’ she said, surprised by the venom in her words, but she had never felt more angry, never more filled with hate, ‘Paul, we have no choice, we have to fight.’ she repeated.
‘But not get ourselves killed. Now, please Katka. We just need to wait until morning. Let’s just wait and when we’re sure they’re not out there waiting for us -’
‘We’ll do whatever we can.’ Katka said, deliberately ignoring what Paul had just said letting go of the door and, trying her best to make it seem it was her decision and that she wasn’t just doing as Paul had told her to, she walked back inside the room. Then she paused for a moment, thought for a second and said, ‘It was that idiot truck driver’s fault. He got us into this mess and now we need to find a way out.’ and with that she realised that this was exaclty what it was, it was because of the truck driver and the stupid way he had died. So sudden, so undramatic the way he had simply slumped to the ground in front of her. Not how she had expected a death to be at all.
‘Yes, we’ll do what we can.’ Paul said, submissively and much quieter than he would normally talk. It was as if all fight had gone from him and he said, ‘We can sabotage train carriages, we can steal, but as for actually fighting, Katka -’ his words trailed off, ‘ We can’t -’ he muttered awkwardly.
Katka didn’t want to hear.
She walked back to where they had been sitting, an old railway sleeper. Right now she didn’t want to listen to Paul being indecisive. There wasn’t time. It was her turn to make plans now, before it had been Paul taking control, giving orders. Not now, Katka told herself and she watched Paul standing by the door. He peered out into the night, looking to see if there were any soldiers there still and if there was danger out there still. Katka thought in that moment that he was pathetic.
At least she did until he turned from the door and with all the conviction he could muster, which wasn’t now much at all, he said, ‘You have to remember, Katka. Your father is one of them, he is a soldier too.’
‘And I would kill him too.’ Katka said, knowing at once that she did not mean what she said, that Paul must have heard the uncertainty in her voice.
They waited then, sitting side by side without talking and not sleeping either. Several hours passed until eventually a glimmer of light began to show through the door, the blackness eased to an inky blue.
‘It’s time.’ Katka said, sitting up slowly and taking up her gun. She did not turn to look at Paul or give him the chance to reply. She simple walked to the door, knowing that he’d follow.
Katka had never felt more certain or more accepting of a role. We are resistance now, she told herself and she signalled for Paul to follow. ‘Stick close.’ she said and half crouching but with her head raised so she could look about, she ran.
Fast across the open space to the first train, she threw herself against the side of the carriage. Out of breath but exhilarated, she waited for a moment for Paul to catch up.
‘Look, the truck is still there.’ she said as Paul crouched beside her.
‘But not worth the risk.’ he replied, ‘And look, the entrance is guarded.’
To her horror Katka saw the unmistakable dome shaped helmet of a stormtrooper, standing guard by the entrance to the train yard. She quickly looked about for another way out. But the train yard was surrounded by a brick wall, perhaps two metres high, and apart from there being no other exit most of the yard was lit up by a single flood light, bright and all seeing.
‘What shall we do?’ Katka asked, ‘There’s no way out.’
‘We might have to lay low for a day.’ Paul said, although he sounded uncertain.
Katka immediately shook her head. The thought of staying in the outhouse for another night filled her with dread. She was already beginning to feel ill, her head ached and the morning sky, although still dull was hurting her eyes. She looked again at the wall. ‘Paul, do you think we can get over that wall?’
He stared across the yard for a moment, then said, ‘It’s worth a try. The village is on the other side. If we can get over without being seen we can find somewhere to hide out.’
It was all the encouragement Katka needed. She ran as fast as she could to the wall and without stopping scrambled with her feet to get on top of it. ‘Take my hand.’ she called to Paul as he reached her, and taking hold of his forearm she pulled him over and in one move they were both on the other side, falling roughly onto the concrete of the yard below.
Katka’s leg screamed with pain. She had knocked it as they fell, but it wasn’t hurt badly. And it didn’t stop her from getting over the next wall and she ran after Paul, who took the lead now, sprinting to the next wall, which was directly by the road and much lower.
‘Look.’ Paul said, once Katka had caught up, his breath billowing from his mouth in a cloud of steam. It lit up in the dull morning like a cartoon speech bubble, ‘Over there, that house is empty.’ He pointed to the other side of the narrow road that led through the little village. It was an innocuous looking building made of light brown stone. It had a pitched roof and wooden shutters that had been left open. No light shone from inside. ‘How do you know?’ Katka asked.
‘The shutters.’ Paul replied, ‘They’re open and the lights are all out.’ and then taking charge he said, ‘Come on.’ and he began quickly across the road.
‘Wait,’ Katka stammered after him, but too slow, too late, ‘Paul -’ she was just about to say, but it was no use, he was already across the road and into the garden of the house on the end of the row.
‘Wait.’ she hissed as she caught up with him and at the same time she was trying to keep her voice low because she had seen a movement between the trees beyond the house.
‘What is it?’ Paul asked.
‘Look there.’ Katka said, mouthing the words and signalling for Paul to keep quiet.
Paul looked, straining to look past the house and the scruff of overgrown bushes and trees that occupied the land beyond the row of houses. ‘What?’ he muttered, as evidently he had seen nothing.
And then Katka wasn’t sure. Although she wanted to be sure, she wanted to believe that it had just been a shadow or a trick of the light as they had run across the road because it was quiet and secure in the back garden of the house, the grass had grown long and a watering can had become welded to the ground where moss had grown all up one side.
It seemed peaceful, calm.
‘There’s no one here.’ Paul said, straightening up and turning to Katka. He might well have shaken his head too and put his hands on his hips and his attitude annoyed Katka.
‘Paul, do you think I’m blind? I saw someone.’
‘Ok, I believe you.’ Paul said, but clearly not interested. Instead he peered in through the large back window of the house.
‘Paul, you need to listen to me. If someone thinks we’re hiding here they’ll call the police. The army will come.’ Katka said, and the frustration of trying to speak to him, of not being able to get him to listen, made Katka want to shout, she wanted to tell him that he was an idiot, that he was putting them both in danger, that he didn’t know what he was doing. Katka would have said all of this, only the sudden reflection of a figure in the window glass stopped her.
She spun round, but only just in time to see a man dressed in dark coat and cap and what looked like a rifle in his hands disappear into the bushes. ‘Paul -’ Katka cried and as he turned he instinctively ducked to the ground and they heard the zip of a bullet as it cut through the air and shattered the window behind them.
‘Quick! Run!’ Paul shouted.
They went across the garden and over the wall of the house next door. In their wake more bullets landed, throwing up the grass in explosions of green.
They ran through the garden next door, upsetting a dog as they went. It barked at their it heels, chased them to the next fence. And even when they were out of range of the gunman, they did not stop. They ran until they were back on the road, close to the village’s main square. And there they crouched again, shielding themselves from view as best they could with their backs to the bushes of a little park.
‘Who was that?’ Katka demanded, panting for air.
‘I don’t know.’ Paul replied. ‘He wasn’t soldier. He wasn’t in uniform.’
‘Well come on.’ Katka said, ‘We can’t wait here.’ because there were two enemies now, she thought, although there was no time to say this aloud, to do so would mean discussion, it would raise questions that would need to be answered. Who else but the German army would want us dead?
Katka threw herself from the ground and began running. She aimed herself across the square and towards a barn on the very edge of the village. It was the only place in view where they could shelter.
Immediately Paul stopped her though. He caught up with her and put his hand threw her arm, physically pulling her back.
‘What are you doing?’ Katka demanded, trying to pull her arm free, but Paul’s grip was too tight.
‘Just act as natural as you can.’ Paul muttered and he forced Katka to walk at the same pace as him, head down and moving across the the square without running. ‘If we run it’ll attract attention and we can’t afford that.’
‘But, -’ Katka pulled with her arm. Paul let go this time, perhaps realising that Katka understood, but then she snapped, ‘You’ll attract more attention holding me like I’m your prisoner!’ and she stepped away from him, but kept walking and together they walked the last hundred or so metres to the wooden barn.
But it was impossible to act naturally, impossible not to look back and see if the gunman was still there. ‘Paul -’ Katka began, glancing across her shoulder.
‘Don’t look back.’ Paul replied.
But he was there, flat cap pulled down over his face and with the long barrel of a shotgun resting downwards in his hands. He looked for all the world like a farmer, just an innocent part of a rural village scene, if he hadn’t just fired at them and was now following them.
‘There’s nothing we can do.’ Paul said as they reached the barn, and then he too peered back towards the man. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’ he said again.
Yet no one came. It was only the fear of being caught that terrified Katka and Paul through the night. And so they listened for the sound of boots on the gravel outside, the slow tread of someone searching, looking in every dark corner, every recess.
‘They’ll kill us if they find us.’ muttered Paul, speaking into the frozen darkness. It was cold beyond cold and cruel draft blew in from outside, making Paul’s teeth chatter like teacups on tray, and occasionally his whole torso would shake against the cold. Katka held onto him tightly to keep him warm, to keep herself warm too.
Yes, they will kill us, thought Katka, but it might be worse, because we’re resistance now. Yet she dared not say this aloud to Paul. This thought she kept to herself, the pride that she had done something, that it wasn’t her that had stood idly by and watched.
For a long time neither Katka nor Paul spoke, they dared not. But when it sounded as if the soldiers had gone, when there were no more footsteps on the gravel and they had heard the sound of a truck starting its engine, the scent of its diesel fuel choking the scentless winter air, Katka said, ‘I think they’ve gone now. I think it’s safe to go outside.’
Paul didn’t reply.
‘Come on.’ Katka said, getting up and slowly moving towards the door.
‘Wait!’ Paul said, speaking so suddenly Katka at once stopped. She was standing by the door and had her hand stretched out to take hold of the handle,
‘They might still be outside.’ he said, they might just be waiting.’
‘A trap, you mean?’ Katka said, but nevertheless she carefully eased open the heavy wooden door to look outside. It scraped painfully on the concrete floor.
The sound must have startled Paul because suddenly he was sitting bolt upright and ‘Quiet!’ he hissed, fear sounded in his voice.
Katka let go of the door.
For a second they both waited, stock still like figures in a painting, as dirty as the room they were hiding in, and they waited until there was no noise except the sound of their own breathing and the sound of the truck’s engine as it strained out through the train yard exit was gone completely.
‘Now?’ Katka asked, speaking quietly and uncertainly and looking out through the gap in the door.
‘We can’t. Katka.’ Paul said, his voice much louder because in the moment that had passed he had got up and walked to where Katka was standing. ‘We can’t go outside.’ he said, ‘If there are soldiers still out there we won’t stand a chance, they want us dead.’ and then he placed his hand gently on Katka’s shoulder, ‘Katka, please.’ he said again, ‘Sit down and wait.’
The gesture had been meant to calm Katka but instead she felt a wave of anger suddenly rise up inside her. Starting in her stomach and rising to her throat like a great knot that seemed to cut off the air to her lungs, ‘Get off me.’ she snapped, knocking his hands away, ‘We’re getting out of here, we’ll fight them if we have to. Now give me my gun, I’ll not cower here until they find us!’
The force of Katka’s words seemed to hit Paul like a blow. He pulled his hands back and stepped away, but pleadingly he went on, ‘Just wait, Katka, please. If they haven’t found us yet then we just need to wait till morning, we just need to survive -’
‘No,’ Katka replied at once, she didn’t want to hear any more, ‘That’s not how it works now, not anymore. We can’t just survive, not after what we’ve just done. Can’t you see? We’ve crossed a line, we’re part of the resistance now.’
‘What?’ Paul spat, and despite the panicked expression in his eyes, a laugh almost sounded in is voice, ‘What do you mean, resistance? We’re not resistance.’
‘And you think the Germans will think that if they catch us? You think they’ll take the time to see how committed we are before putting us against a wall and shooting us?’
Paul shook his head, frantic like a rag doll, ‘We need to stay alive, we need to survive, Katka. They kill us -’
‘Worse. They’ll torture us first, they won’t believe we’ve only just got involved, that we didn’t mean for this to happen.’ she said, surprised by the venom in her words, but she had never felt more angry, never more filled with hate, ‘Paul, we have no choice, we have to fight.’ she repeated.
‘But not get ourselves killed. Now, please Katka. We just need to wait until morning. Let’s just wait and when we’re sure they’re not out there waiting for us -’
‘We’ll do whatever we can.’ Katka said, deliberately ignoring what Paul had just said letting go of the door and, trying her best to make it seem it was her decision and that she wasn’t just doing as Paul had told her to, she walked back inside the room. Then she paused for a moment, thought for a second and said, ‘It was that idiot truck driver’s fault. He got us into this mess and now we need to find a way out.’ and with that she realised that this was exaclty what it was, it was because of the truck driver and the stupid way he had died. So sudden, so undramatic the way he had simply slumped to the ground in front of her. Not how she had expected a death to be at all.
‘Yes, we’ll do what we can.’ Paul said, submissively and much quieter than he would normally talk. It was as if all fight had gone from him and he said, ‘We can sabotage train carriages, we can steal, but as for actually fighting, Katka -’ his words trailed off, ‘ We can’t -’ he muttered awkwardly.
Katka didn’t want to hear.
She walked back to where they had been sitting, an old railway sleeper. Right now she didn’t want to listen to Paul being indecisive. There wasn’t time. It was her turn to make plans now, before it had been Paul taking control, giving orders. Not now, Katka told herself and she watched Paul standing by the door. He peered out into the night, looking to see if there were any soldiers there still and if there was danger out there still. Katka thought in that moment that he was pathetic.
At least she did until he turned from the door and with all the conviction he could muster, which wasn’t now much at all, he said, ‘You have to remember, Katka. Your father is one of them, he is a soldier too.’
‘And I would kill him too.’ Katka said, knowing at once that she did not mean what she said, that Paul must have heard the uncertainty in her voice.
They waited then, sitting side by side without talking and not sleeping either. Several hours passed until eventually a glimmer of light began to show through the door, the blackness eased to an inky blue.
‘It’s time.’ Katka said, sitting up slowly and taking up her gun. She did not turn to look at Paul or give him the chance to reply. She simple walked to the door, knowing that he’d follow.
Katka had never felt more certain or more accepting of a role. We are resistance now, she told herself and she signalled for Paul to follow. ‘Stick close.’ she said and half crouching but with her head raised so she could look about, she ran.
Fast across the open space to the first train, she threw herself against the side of the carriage. Out of breath but exhilarated, she waited for a moment for Paul to catch up.
‘Look, the truck is still there.’ she said as Paul crouched beside her.
‘But not worth the risk.’ he replied, ‘And look, the entrance is guarded.’
To her horror Katka saw the unmistakable dome shaped helmet of a stormtrooper, standing guard by the entrance to the train yard. She quickly looked about for another way out. But the train yard was surrounded by a brick wall, perhaps two metres high, and apart from there being no other exit most of the yard was lit up by a single flood light, bright and all seeing.
‘What shall we do?’ Katka asked, ‘There’s no way out.’
‘We might have to lay low for a day.’ Paul said, although he sounded uncertain.
Katka immediately shook her head. The thought of staying in the outhouse for another night filled her with dread. She was already beginning to feel ill, her head ached and the morning sky, although still dull was hurting her eyes. She looked again at the wall. ‘Paul, do you think we can get over that wall?’
He stared across the yard for a moment, then said, ‘It’s worth a try. The village is on the other side. If we can get over without being seen we can find somewhere to hide out.’
It was all the encouragement Katka needed. She ran as fast as she could to the wall and without stopping scrambled with her feet to get on top of it. ‘Take my hand.’ she called to Paul as he reached her, and taking hold of his forearm she pulled him over and in one move they were both on the other side, falling roughly onto the concrete of the yard below.
Katka’s leg screamed with pain. She had knocked it as they fell, but it wasn’t hurt badly. And it didn’t stop her from getting over the next wall and she ran after Paul, who took the lead now, sprinting to the next wall, which was directly by the road and much lower.
‘Look.’ Paul said, once Katka had caught up, his breath billowing from his mouth in a cloud of steam. It lit up in the dull morning like a cartoon speech bubble, ‘Over there, that house is empty.’ He pointed to the other side of the narrow road that led through the little village. It was an innocuous looking building made of light brown stone. It had a pitched roof and wooden shutters that had been left open. No light shone from inside. ‘How do you know?’ Katka asked.
‘The shutters.’ Paul replied, ‘They’re open and the lights are all out.’ and then taking charge he said, ‘Come on.’ and he began quickly across the road.
‘Wait,’ Katka stammered after him, but too slow, too late, ‘Paul -’ she was just about to say, but it was no use, he was already across the road and into the garden of the house on the end of the row.
‘Wait.’ she hissed as she caught up with him and at the same time she was trying to keep her voice low because she had seen a movement between the trees beyond the house.
‘What is it?’ Paul asked.
‘Look there.’ Katka said, mouthing the words and signalling for Paul to keep quiet.
Paul looked, straining to look past the house and the scruff of overgrown bushes and trees that occupied the land beyond the row of houses. ‘What?’ he muttered, as evidently he had seen nothing.
And then Katka wasn’t sure. Although she wanted to be sure, she wanted to believe that it had just been a shadow or a trick of the light as they had run across the road because it was quiet and secure in the back garden of the house, the grass had grown long and a watering can had become welded to the ground where moss had grown all up one side.
It seemed peaceful, calm.
‘There’s no one here.’ Paul said, straightening up and turning to Katka. He might well have shaken his head too and put his hands on his hips and his attitude annoyed Katka.
‘Paul, do you think I’m blind? I saw someone.’
‘Ok, I believe you.’ Paul said, but clearly not interested. Instead he peered in through the large back window of the house.
‘Paul, you need to listen to me. If someone thinks we’re hiding here they’ll call the police. The army will come.’ Katka said, and the frustration of trying to speak to him, of not being able to get him to listen, made Katka want to shout, she wanted to tell him that he was an idiot, that he was putting them both in danger, that he didn’t know what he was doing. Katka would have said all of this, only the sudden reflection of a figure in the window glass stopped her.
She spun round, but only just in time to see a man dressed in dark coat and cap and what looked like a rifle in his hands disappear into the bushes. ‘Paul -’ Katka cried and as he turned he instinctively ducked to the ground and they heard the zip of a bullet as it cut through the air and shattered the window behind them.
‘Quick! Run!’ Paul shouted.
They went across the garden and over the wall of the house next door. In their wake more bullets landed, throwing up the grass in explosions of green.
They ran through the garden next door, upsetting a dog as they went. It barked at their it heels, chased them to the next fence. And even when they were out of range of the gunman, they did not stop. They ran until they were back on the road, close to the village’s main square. And there they crouched again, shielding themselves from view as best they could with their backs to the bushes of a little park.
‘Who was that?’ Katka demanded, panting for air.
‘I don’t know.’ Paul replied. ‘He wasn’t soldier. He wasn’t in uniform.’
‘Well come on.’ Katka said, ‘We can’t wait here.’ because there were two enemies now, she thought, although there was no time to say this aloud, to do so would mean discussion, it would raise questions that would need to be answered. Who else but the German army would want us dead?
Katka threw herself from the ground and began running. She aimed herself across the square and towards a barn on the very edge of the village. It was the only place in view where they could shelter.
Immediately Paul stopped her though. He caught up with her and put his hand threw her arm, physically pulling her back.
‘What are you doing?’ Katka demanded, trying to pull her arm free, but Paul’s grip was too tight.
‘Just act as natural as you can.’ Paul muttered and he forced Katka to walk at the same pace as him, head down and moving across the the square without running. ‘If we run it’ll attract attention and we can’t afford that.’
‘But, -’ Katka pulled with her arm. Paul let go this time, perhaps realising that Katka understood, but then she snapped, ‘You’ll attract more attention holding me like I’m your prisoner!’ and she stepped away from him, but kept walking and together they walked the last hundred or so metres to the wooden barn.
But it was impossible to act naturally, impossible not to look back and see if the gunman was still there. ‘Paul -’ Katka began, glancing across her shoulder.
‘Don’t look back.’ Paul replied.
But he was there, flat cap pulled down over his face and with the long barrel of a shotgun resting downwards in his hands. He looked for all the world like a farmer, just an innocent part of a rural village scene, if he hadn’t just fired at them and was now following them.
‘There’s nothing we can do.’ Paul said as they reached the barn, and then he too peered back towards the man. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’ he said again.