Berlin blood

The party in honor of the Fuhrer’s birthday this year is held a little shorter and more modest than in the past, but Ilse is not at all surprised that his birthday is still celebrated. She was exhausted that day because all the servants had been called to the celebration. In the evening, tired and barely able to stand, she returned to the staff room, where many were discussing the latest not-so-good news. Everyone was seriously worried about their future. Ilsa went to her bed and, with the last of her strength, collapsed on it to catch her breath. I simply didn’t have the strength to get up and take off my uniform. There was no talk about the soul. Her legs were buzzing as if she had run thousands of kilometers without stopping. Becker tried not to listen to the alarmed voices of her colleagues, tried not to think that her neighbor Clara, who was already determined to commit suicide, had obtained poison and intended to take it in the coming days. Clara simply waved away Ilsa’s entreaties that she needed to continue living. She argued that without Hitler and the party there is no life. Ilsa did not agree with her. But who is she, Ilse Becker, to listen to her? Ilsa sighed. I looked around. She began to feel like she was going crazy. The walls and space that she already knew as her own home pressed on her and brought only disgust into her soul. Every day she lived was faceless for her. She wanted to take a breath of fresh air, she wanted to listen to the birds singing and expose her face to the rays of the sun. What will happen to her next? If you imagine for a second that she will be released from captivity, what will she do then? Nobody needs her here. Where will she go? What will you do with your life? Or maybe the Russians will simply kill her or take her in and use her as a whore. “No,” Ilsa thought sharply. — “This will not happen.” Her thoughts smoothly turned to Gunther. For her, he was an interesting man who understood life, who looked at everything without any illusions. And he could have saved her. How he saved her when, driven by despair, she decided to end her life. And Ilsa involuntarily thought that this was a sign from above. That he appeared at such a time and at the wrong time, that now she looked for him among others every time, that she wanted to communicate with him as often as possible. Becker saw how he was always collected and never showed how afraid he was that he would be the next victim. She heard him give advice and talk about life, and she found these discussions entertaining. She liked to study him, liked to look at his facial expressions, remember his emotions. Gunther was her salvation in this confined space. And Ilsa was sure that he could have saved her outside the suffocating bunker. Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a young girl who looked confused, and Ilse was amazed at how much the stranger looked like Gunther. At first Ilsa thought that she had imagined it because she was tired. She closed her eyes for a second, but when she opened them again, she realized that the girl was still in her field of vision. The girl’s appearance indicated that she was very rich. Her attire looked luxurious, and Ilsa was simply plain in comparison. The unfamiliar girl caught Becker’s gaze and smiled warmly at her, coming closer. Ilsa got out of bed, forgetting about fatigue. “I’m a little lost,” the stranger said in such a gentle voice, as if bells were ringing, “where am I?” And just as Ilse was about to answer her, Gunther flew into the staff room. Ilsa tried not to look at him, so as not to give away the fact that they knew each other. “Marie,” Gunther raised his voice, “you took a wrong turn, sister.” We’re a little further along the corridor. Marie looked over her shoulder with a smile on her face. — Sorry, Gunther, I got distracted by my thoughts. Gunther rolled his eyes. — Marie, you should be more careful. We need to hurry. The train is leaving any minute, and if you’re late, I won’t be able to protect you. I myself am on the verge of death. — Richter jabbered. “Oh,” Marie smiled wider, “don’t worry, dear twin brother, I don’t really need your protection.” And remember that I’m older than you, so turn off your commanding tone. Gunther crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re only thirty minutes older.” — But still. — Marie grinned. Ilse, who was watching this scene nearby, couldn’t help but smile, thinking that these petty squabbles were an example of the fact that even in dark times there is something other than war. That there are ordinary conversations, tea drinking, arguing, relaxing. — Marie, I ask you, leave as soon as possible, you see, I’m healthy, and I will also leave as soon as possible, I promise, we’re all going. They’re already waiting for us. Marie chuckled and left the servants' room, Gunther was also about to follow his sister, when he caught Ilsa’s gaze and froze in place. He looked thoughtful. “This is my sister, Marie,” he said to Ilsa for some reason, although she already heard their conversation perfectly well, “and she looks after me very much.” Ilsa laughed quietly. And her laughter was as gentle as Richter’s sister’s voice. “Next to her, you really don’t look like a Luftwaffe general.” — Next to your elders, in general, you always look less mature. Do you have a sister or brother? — Have a sister. Her name is Karla. She left for America at the beginning of the war, not wanting to stay. — Why didn’t you go? “Gunther couldn’t bring himself to move, he wanted to talk with Ilse for as long as possible, and he hoped that Marie had found the right door. “I didn’t want to leave my father.” And besides, even if I went to another continent, it would certainly not be for my sister. If my loved one had been there, I wouldn’t be here. But as you can see,” Ilsa spread her hands, “I don’t have it.” -Are you alone? — Gunther asked, holding his breath, and this question hit Ilsa painfully in the soul. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes from the realization of her complete loneliness, but she answered calmly: “Yes,” and almost inaudibly. Gunther, seeing her sad eyes, asked for forgiveness, but Ilsa waved her off. — I hurt you. — Gunther squeezed out sadly. — And I told you when I asked about the war. You probably also want to quit everything. — Yes, to tell the truth, I want to run away. But where? They will notice me right away, and besides, like you, I have no one to share my life with. “It’s not too late to fix everything.” — Ilsa, will you run away with me if I offer you this? Ilse stared at Gunther Richter with all her eyes, not believing his words. After all, a few minutes ago she was thinking about what she would do and where she would go next if she got out of the bunker alive. And she had no options. But now. Now she has a chance. A chance that an unfamiliar man who saved her once is going to give her. And Ilsa understood how sweet his offer was. She wanted freedom, she wanted to escape. — Yes, I will run away with you. — Becker answered excitedly. “Thank you,” Gunther breathed, “you saved my soul from suicide.” I’ll prepare everything. And,” he suddenly took a step forward, finding himself unacceptably close to Frau, “I want to seal this promise.” — In what way? “Ilsa asked in surprise and didn’t even have time to consider her options when Gunther leaned over and kissed her briefly on the lips, then pulled away, looked into her blue eyes for a second and left, leaving Ilsa alone, who didn’t understand anything. Her lips were flaming and her cheeks were flushed. And all she knew at the moment was that she had made a deal with love.