Berlin blood

Laura woke up and was happy about the good weather and mood. She went downstairs, where the cafe was located, and began to prepare for the new day: she put up chairs, laid out cutlery, laid out a tablecloth, arranged flowers, and wiped glasses. An ordinary day, no different from others. She left the bar alone and, putting down the glasses, picked up one large pot. As she began to drag him out of the cafe onto the street to put him down, Laura almost fell on the man lying on the ground. She literally managed to notice him at the last moment and step over him. — Crap! — the girl screamed in surprise. The man was lying right at the door of the cafe and breathing heavily. It was clear that he was a military man. — Man, are you okay? “She looked at him and discovered a wound on his shoulder. It fell on the left shoulder, ending there and starting from the collarbone. The wound was not very deep, but the blood from it spread across the clothes. “I will regret this, and more than once! Laura, why are you so soft?!” She didn’t particularly like this trait in herself, but there was nothing to do except bring the man home, which is what she did. Taking him by the arms, she dragged him into the cafe and, having reached the bar counter with him, began to examine him more carefully. Beautiful facial features. A little sharp chin, but a beautiful long neck. He’s cute. Thin lips and cheekbones — a real prince in uniform that has fallen into disrepair. As she glanced at the uniform and awards, she realized where he was coming from. German! Laura began to take off his jacket and, exposing his shoulder a little, began to wash the wound and make sure that the bleeding stopped. Having wrapped his shoulder with what was at hand, and seeing if he had any other injuries, Laura began to think about where to put him. It’s definitely impossible to leave him in a cafe: random visitors or his father might notice him, so the girl had no choice but to slowly drag him into her room, which was located nearby. And the place there is better for him than in the basement. The girl took him under the arms and, lifting his upper body, dragged him into the room. After dragging him to the stairs, she realized that she had overestimated herself a little: she was not that strong. But it was too late to retreat. Gathering all her strength, she again grabbed his upper body and, walking backwards, dragged him. “Laura! Well, why did you drag him? No, to leave him there or to drag him outside to safety — you decided to bring him to your room. You have greatly overestimated yourself, now listen so that your father doesn’t hear, otherwise things will turn out badly,” the girl thought while she was dragging him. It took her a lot of effort to move him to her room, but she was able to do it. It’s good that she was close. Opening the door, she laid first her head, then her lower body, on the bed. When the man was on the bed, the girl exhaled and, having brought all his things and a glass of water, locked the door so that he would not run away, and anyone else who accidentally entered the room would not see him. — Laura, did you just get up? — Father, as always, is not on time. Jose looks his age: shoulder-length hair with gray streaks and brown eyes. He, a man of the old school, tried to raise his daughter in order and severity, without unnecessary pampering. After the death of Laura’s mother, he almost never left the house — only occasionally to admire the moon by the sea. “No… I got up a long time ago, I just forgot to take something from the room, but I already took it,” the girl blinked her eyes innocently. Laura knew how to lie. — And what is it? — He asked incredulously. “My… Hair clip,” the girl smiled nervously and quickly turned the key behind her back. Meeting her father’s still incredulous gaze, she took him by the hand, leading him away from her room. Jose had mixed feelings. The daughter did not forget anything, and her look today is too sweet and mysterious, however, sighing, he went downstairs with her. *** Germany. Gestapo — Will you allow me? “Yes, come in,” Wilke sat and smoked. Honestly, he didn’t do anything at work. Today he simply wasn’t in the mood to take on anything serious. “Take care of this matter,” the young officer, putting the folder on the table, looked at Vilke with complete seriousness. Everyone knew that he was an inveterate sloth. He was good at solving cases and finding the right people, but he was extremely picky about his work. He let everything take its course and transferred the arrows to someone else, finding a thousand reasons for the incompetence of his assistant, on whom he blamed the whole matter. — Why me? The officer sighed. Before him sat the standard of the Greater German Reich. Blue eyes, blond hair — he was the most purebred Aryan. But so harmful. — Because this is a very secret matter: we are talking about Captain Paul Bernstein. He lost the battle with his team off the coast of Italy, and it is important for us to find him before the British and Italians, who, if discovered, will immediately begin hunting for him. — What value does it have? — Wilke opened the folder and lazily glanced at the photograph. The officer was at his limit. “He knows too much, and besides, he can teach his enemies a lot — we cannot allow this.” — It’s an interesting matter, okay. I’ll take care of it,” Wilke put out his cigarette and opened the folder for a more detailed study. The officer exhaled and left the office. *** Moritz walked along the corridors of the already familiar building, understanding everything to himself. He is a traitor to his own people and a stranger here, he knew that one wrong step and he would die at the hands of the British. He betrayed his country back in '41, when he last saw Paul. Then he commanded their boat. He gave the command to fight to defeat. Moritz tried to persuade him to stop and not do this, but it was all to no avail. He is the only one who survived out of twenty-five people on that ship and, having been captured, went over to the side of the British. As he walked past the glass shelf with awards, he stole a glance at himself. Red hair, brown eyes — it was impossible to say that he was German, but he had the blood of this state. But he no longer considered Germany his country: it was foreign to him, it was not the country in which he wanted to live, not the country in which he grew up… No, not that one. That Germany with its green fields and flowers that he loved to collect, with those wonderful traditions that were… There is no longer that country that he considered a country. He walked along the corridors and, having found the desired office, knocked and entered it. “Moritz, come in,” Jerry sat and sipped whiskey at his workplace. “A great start to the day,” Moritz thought to himself. The mood dropped to zero at the sight of the boss. — You called me for one very important matter. What’s happened? — He sat down next to me. He and Jerry were on fairly good terms. Jerry once got him out of prison by convincing the court that he could be useful when Moritz was given a death sentence. “I want to instruct you to find one of yours,” Jerry finished the contents of the glass. — Whom? — Moritz watched carefully as Jerry stood up and handed the folder from the table into his hands. “Paul Bernstein,” Moritz can’t believe his ears, memories of that battle flash before his eyes. — You probably know him. — Yes I know. It was he who gave the order to go to defeat,” the guy purses his lips. Damn, what a bad time life brought them together. — Clear. Presumably, he blew up our submarine with ammunition off the coast of Italy, but he himself drowned there. We don’t know whether he survived or not, but we never found any traces of him, and, most likely, he is still alive. — Why should we look for him? You didn’t just call me to find him, did you? — Moritz was not stupid, he quickly grasped the essence of the matter, and Jerry liked that about him. — Yes, it’s true, he knows a lot of valuable things for us. We assume that we are not the only ones looking for it. I think the Germans have already realized it too. Therefore, your task is to find him and bring him to us. He’s not the only one we’re looking for, but he’s a priority. I’m afraid you’ll have to chase him: I don’t think he’ll fall into our hands, even if he’s on the verge of death… Moritz interrupted him: Jerry didn’t want to listen at all. — Okay, I understand you. Moritz left the room that had been allocated to him, already with a suitcase. He didn’t think that fate would bring them together again, but if so, it means their battle is not over yet. He will only be glad to leave for a short period of time this kennel in which he was: shabby walls and a cot. *** The sun was setting. Paul began to come to his senses only in the evening of a hot day. My whole body ached unbearably and I was thirsty. He opened his eyes slightly, saw the ceiling, pillows, a small mirror hanging on the wall and reflecting the sun’s rays, a table and a chair, somewhere in the distance there was the sound of the sea and the wind. At first, Paul thought that he had died, but then, touching one another with the pads of his fingers, he realized that this was not so. He wanted to get up, but he didn’t have enough strength: he was weak, and only the picture of where he was appeared before his eyes. If the enemy has it, then the best solution for him is not to make a sound. He closed his eyes and listened. There were conversations below, the language he had already heard somewhere — definitely Italian. He remembered how his grandmother spoke it calmly while living in Italy and drinking wine in her villa. It’s a pity that she died at the beginning of the war, and the house was immediately sold after her death as unnecessary. Those were wonderful times. His thoughts were interrupted by the girl’s voice and the sound of the door opening. Paul opened his eyes. — Are you alive? Paul guessed roughly what she said, but did not move a muscle. He simply looked at the girl with open eyes. “Say yes if you’re alive,” the girl still didn’t lag behind. Doesn’t she see that since he has his eyes open, it means he hasn’t died yet? In the eyes of the living, thought and purpose were always visible, while in the eyes of the dead there was no purpose. They were just eyes looking into infinity, into darkness. Laura didn’t know what to do: wait until the wound heals and then send him away, or right now after eating. She was shaking with excitement that there was a German at home. Just as she, like her family, could be put in prison for harboring the enemy if anyone found out, so the father himself could shoot him, and you need to start thinking about what to do with the corpse. Paul shook his head lightly. The girl was beautiful. Bright green eyes and blond hair the color of ripe millet. She smiled and slipped into the room. Life was in full swing in her, it seemed that she did not live like the rest of the world, plunged into despondency and fear. She is alive, her eyes are alive. “Great, I brought you food,” the girl pointed to the tray and, placing it next to the man, removed the napkin. Laura watched the man focus his gaze, think about what to do, and look at her with curiosity. Perhaps he doesn’t trust her and thinks she’s holding him back. “Here, eat,” she took the fork and put it in Paul’s hand. He looked at her with surprise and disbelief. An awkward situation has arisen. They sat and looked at each other until the girl wanted to somehow resolve the situation. Laura decided that he didn’t trust her, couldn’t understand her, so, looking down, she took a fork and, cutting off a piece of meat, brought it to Paul’s mouth. He, having smelled it and realized that there was nothing dangerous in the food, took the food from his fork and chewed it slowly, smiling contentedly: the meat was indeed very tasty, slightly spicy. The girl blushed lightly: she did not spoon-feed anyone, much less an adult man. “Thank you,” was all he could say. Paul was completely confused by the situation. He, an adult, must spoon-feed someone he barely knows and is completely dependent on. Lord, he never would have thought that fate would put him in such an awkward position. The man would like to bury himself in the blanket now and hide the embarrassment that was pouring out of him like a fountain, but he had to hold his head. “Now eat yourself, Paul… Bersh… Bershtein,” the girl tried to pronounce his last name. The man just smiled and let out a small chuckle. In truth, she was the first to pronounce his last name almost correctly: everyone else pronounced it with even greater errors. And Paul had always been annoyed by this, but now he allowed himself to laugh a little at this comicality of his life. — Well! — The girl answered with feigned offense. —You really have very complex surnames and strange names. The man didn’t answer, he just took the fork from the girl’s hands and began to eat, looking at her. “My name is Paul Bernstein,” he said after chewing the meat. — Bernstein. “Bernstein,” the girl said slowly and thoughtfully. — My name is Laura. Laura Garcia. You have a beautiful last name. “Very nice,” was all Paul could say. He understood this language well, but could not learn to speak. Her eyes sparkled very brightly, or so it seems to him, the sun slowly shines in them, and her skin shines on him, giving off an olive tint. She is a model of health and joy. He pulled all the remaining plates towards him and began to eat: hunger was taking its toll. And Laura had no choice but to watch him. The way he eats—he definitely had manners. He took a fork and knife and drank. Paul looked at the food and ate everything one by one, taking his time. It seemed to the girl that he was stretching out and did not want to fall into sleep and oblivion, he wanted to look at life one more time before going to bed and feel the pleasure that he felt now. Sometimes minutes can replace a whole life. They sat after Paul’s meal and silently looked at the stars, which were clearly visible. Planes did not fly over the city, so the stars scattered across the sky in a strange chaotic order and dominated it. The evening coolness was chilling, and the wind from the sea sang a lullaby about the waves.