Konrad Feldpetzer

November 4th, 1943

Somewhere in Picardie, Northern France

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“Honestly? I doubt we’re getting past that,” Reuben stated with a grimace, staring at the road ahead through the windshield.

I glanced at him, “What makes you so sure?”

“It’s four fully armed Jerries against three of us. I’m useless in a fight and we’re all exhausted, plus the fact that your arm is still injured,” Reuben ticked off with his fingers as we slowly approached the checkpoint.

Niko leaned forward from the back seat, “We got past one of these when you were out cold. I’m sure we can do it again.”

The Briton glanced back at Niko with an incredulous stare, “Seriously?”

“Shh! Can you all not see that we’re about to go through?” Wolfram piped up from the back seat.

Niko grunted, “Yes. Everyone hide anything suspicious, and keep a pistol on you.”

I slowly pulled up to the checkpoint, sticking a Walther in my pocket in case anything went wrong. It wasn’t anything much, really, just a small blockade with a truck and a few soldiers. I did my best to keep my face neutral as I stopped the car to talk to the soldier.

The soldier glanced down at me with a bored expression, “Please get out of the car.”

“Did we do something wrong?” that whole neutral face bit was suddenly a lot harder.

He thankfully shook his head, “No. We just got a radio that some terrorists might be heading this way so we’re just checking everyone going through. Now please exit the vehicle. All of you.”

Shit.

I internally grimaced as I gestured everyone out of the car, stepping out onto the asphalt. My heartbeat seemed to drown out all other noises. We all lined up on the left side of the car.

The soldier rummaged through his pockets before pulling out what looked like a little book, with leather covers. He flipped through the pages, speaking to me as he did so, “By the way, your hair looks great. Very Aryan.”

“Thank you,” was all I could respond with.

The soldier abruptly stopped on a page, “Ah. Here we go.”

He seemed to read off the page, “Konrad Feldpetzer, wanted terrorist.”

I felt beads of sweat begin forming on my brow as his gaze turned upwards. He seemed to scrutinize me for a second, comparing me to the image on the page, “You look different enough from the photo…”

The soldier then shrugged, turning to Niko who was directly at my left as he flipped the page.

This time, his eyes narrowed.

“Ludwig! Help me with this!”

Another soldier jogged over from the blockade after a moment, “Yes?”

The first one pointed at Niko, “He looks… somewhat similar to the photo, but I can’t tell. What about you?”

The second soldier craned his neck, checking what I assumed to be a photo of Niko.

Immediately, he then proceeded to pull his rifle on us, “Are you kidding me? Of course it’s them!”

Instinct took over in that second, and I barely even thought about what I did next. My hand snapped to my Walther, ending in a bullet slamming into the soldier’s chest.

Everyone seemed to pause at that moment, the other soldier seemingly processing the fact that I’d shot his friend. I took that second to drop him too, adrenaline dampening any pain I would’ve felt. We then heard the clanking of jackboots against asphalt.

Niko grunted, pulling out his own pistol, “Start the car. We’ll take care of them. Get Reuben too.”

“You got it, boss!” Reuben spoke with a nervous grin.

Wolfram also pulled out a handgun as a bullet whizzed past his head.

I jammed mine into my pocket before swinging open the driver’s door, and then all but throwing myself into the seat. Reuben did the same, stumbling into the backseat. A few gunshots rang out, disturbing the relative peace of the road.

After a minutes, Niko sat in the passenger seat with Wolfram sitting next to Reuben, both panting.

“So. We keep going?” I breathed, relaxing my grip on the steering wheel which I didn’t even know I’d been squeezing. The sharp ache of my arm was slowly returning.

Wolfram replied this time, “Staying here would be counterproductive. Keep going and we should get there within half an hour.”

I nodded before squeezing the gas, feeling the truck lurch forward. It was a rather uneventful 20 minutes compared to the blockade, watching darkness fall over the landscape with Wolfram occasionally saying which way to turn from the back.

Despite all means, Reuben had managed to fall asleep in the back seat again. I couldn’t lie, I felt myself slipping too. My eyelids felt like they were tied downwards, and I could barely keep myself awake enough to keep driving.

“Wait a minute!” Wolfram’s cry nearly made me repeat our earlier episode, though I thankfully managed to keep the car moving straight. Reuben snapped awake, with me instantly knowing from his confused groans.

I growled, “Don’t fucking shout like that, asshole!”

I immediately regretted it when both Wolfram and Niko gave me confused stares, with Reuben still too groggy to process words.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, returning my gaze to the road, “I’m just exhausted.”

Niko slowly nodded, “We all are. I’m sure the village is close by.”

“It is, actually,” Wolfram stated from the back, “I recognize this road. It’s just a few minutes more. We should be able to see it in a second.”

I grinned, my exhaustion momentarily gone as I kept driving. The idea of rest was enough to keep me going for now.

When Wolfram said a second, he wasn’t joking. Barely half a minute afterwards, we saw the glowing lights and fires of a small town just a few miles off in the hills.

“Holy shit! You weren’t kidding!” a laugh escaped my lips, consisting purely of relief. From then on, the atmosphere in the truck was more than cheerful. The light at the end of the tunnel was now blinding.

Niko, despite the small smile on his face, still seemed hesitant to go full optimist, “Everyone just remember that there is a very real chance that we won’t be allowed to stay for long or even at all.”

“…right,” I affirmed, my voice dulled at the prospect. Honestly, I just wanted to get out from behind the wheel and fall asleep in a real bed. Hell, I’d go for a decently comfortable armchair at that point. The pain in my arm that was supposed to be bandaged up ceased to much of an issue a while ago, my arms were just tired now.

As was the rest of me.

Barely four minutes later, we were rolling into the village of Deumont. It was… incredibly quiet. I had to keep forcing myself to pay attention back to the road thanks to how similar it felt to Ebenschtadt. Even the claustrophobic, winding roads were similar. A small stream seemed to cut the town in two, with the central streets around it.

I stuck to said road, not wanting to push my luck when it came to my driving skills.

“It feels… dead,” Rueben muttered.

I quirked an eyebrow, even though the Englishman couldn’t see it, “This is what all villages are like after sundown most of the time. You sleep and get up in tune with the sun.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“Odd that you aren’t accustomed to it, Reuben,” Niko stated as I navigated the roads, turning a left, “Where in England are you from?”

“I’m from Bristol. Pops was a Londoner but got sick of the city for whatever reason so he just kept moving west ‘till he hit a sizable town,” I could almost hear the shrug in Reuben’s voice.

Wolfram spoke from the backseat, “Shush! We’re close.”

I perked up, “We are?”

“Yes. Two right turns and then one left. Head straight. It’s the big white farmhouse.”

“Got it,” I responded with a nod, turning right again. Within two minutes, we had reached our destination. Said farmhouse was surprisingly idyllic, actually. Though our vision was limited by night, we could make out the silhouette of empty fields in the area against the purple of the sky.

Despite the relative early hour of the night—I’d have to guess around 8 or so—the windows were dark. I grimaced as I pulled up the winding gravel pathway, our truck seemingly noisier than a gunshot in the dead of night.

After what felt like an eternity, we came up to the porch of the house. Wolfram was the first to open his door, stepping out of the truck and onto the ground. I hesitantly slid the key out of the ignition as Niko followed suit.

I glanced at the Englishman in the front seat, “You coming?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” he seemed to be rifling through a small bag at his feet, holding some food supplies from the rucksack.

A shrug was my response, opening my door. A surge of nostalgia rushed through me as I stared at the farmhouse. Only Niko and Wolfram walking up to the door knocked me out of it, rushing to join them with Reuben wordlessly following. After seemingly debating it between the two, Wolfram loudly knocked.

If the truck was a gunshot, then this was artillery fire.

We waited for about a minute before a woman appeared at the door in a nightgown, her face wrinkled and rough in the dim candlelight from inside.

“We already told you that we don’t know where Gaston is. Tell your commanding officer to ask at a different town,” I couldn’t hold back a wince at the vitriol in her voice.

Wolfram cleared his throat, seemingly thinking for a moment, “Not soldiers. It’s me.”

Her disposition changed immediately, “Wolfram?”

The communard nodded, “I’ve returned!”

I heard Niko facepalm.

“Sorry to butt in like this, but we’re on the run from the authorities and seriously need a place to hide out,” I spoke up in my more eloquent French.

The woman faced me, head tilted, “From Paris?”

I blinked, “Uh… yes. How’d you know?”

“The German victory over a rebel cell in Paris by demolishing the entire street was heavily publicized,” she deadpanned, “But regardless, you all need a place to stay?”

We all nodded. Good to know Wolfram and Niko understood that much.

She frowned, “I really wish I could, but my husband is sick and we can’t afford to feed four more mouths.”

“We have food with us.”

I glanced at Reuben as he held up some MREs along with the bar of chocolate. I’m pretty sure the four of us noted how her gaze immediately snapped to the sweet.

“At least for the night, I beg you; we’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning if need be,” I hated how desperate my voice was.

She gave each of us a long stare, before sighing, “Fine. I’ll see what to do about you all tomorrow morning; just hide that truck of yours before coming in.”

X-X-X

The rest of the night had been a blur. I distinctly remembered being told to rest by Niko, though, and passing out sometime after. When I was stirred by the sun hitting me in the face, I slowly opened my eyes.

At first, confusion flashed through my mind as I stared at the modest living room. This was soon followed by pain as I tried sitting up, forgetting that my arm had been in a pseudo-cast for the past few days for a reason. Then the memories rushed back.

Right. We’d been on the lamb. That explained the somewhat chaotic scene I’d awoken to.

Wolfram was sprawled out on the floorboards, resembling more a vaguely human-shaped entity than a person. Niko was out cold on the floor next to Wolfram, his silhouette comparable to that of a log, and Reuben had passed out on a loveseat while using the rucksack as a sort of blanket.

“…what time is it?” I mumbled to myself. Judging from the steep angle of the light rays, it was probably around afternoon. Weird. I was dead sure we’d be kicked out at dawn.

The creaking of a floorboard snapped my attention to the left. There, a pair of cautious eyes were peeking at me from the cover of a wall. Those eyes belonged to an almost horrifyingly similar face.

In my state of half-deliruousness from waking up a few seconds earlier, I mumbled, “Tiana?”

Seemingly realizing she’d been found, the girl ducked behind the wall.

I got to my feet, walking over. When I rounded the wall, a nervous-looking girl stared back at me. She couldn’t be any older than 12, with braided brown hair and wide eyes. She wore a heavy blue dress with a skirt that came down to her ankles, the design utilitarian and complemented by sewed-on patches to cover holes.

That part wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was that she held a revolver in her hands.

“Jesus, kid, what’s that for?” I honestly should’ve been alarmed or something at the sight, but I still felt utterly drained by the past few days’ events. After seeing the utter hell that was the partisan base after Hitler’s goons got to it, it felt like nothing phased me.

“You… speak French,” the girl gave me a curious stare, though said curiosity was just a tint that covered the still very evident fear.

I nodded, keeping my tone even, “Yes, I do. I’d like to know why you have a gun in your hands.”

“…I’m protecting mommy and daddy,” she responded, her voice wavering.

“From us?”

“…yes.”

I blinked.

“Why?”

“You spoke Soldier earlier. That means you’re a bad guy.”

“Earlier? I don’t think I’ve been awake since last night.”

“Mhm. I heard you.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “You woke up?”

“People were talking. Of course I woke up.”

“Well, I admire your want to protect your family,” I grunted, “But there’s no need. If anything, we owe your mom for letting us stay the night. We won’t hurt any of you.”

“But you spoke Soldier,” the girl pointed out, her eyes narrowed.

I couldn’t help but pause, “…you mean German?”

“Mhm.”

“Just because I speak German doesn’t mean I’m one of the Reich’s so-called soldiers.”

The girl gave me a cautious look, “Then what are you?”

I couldn’t help but just stare for a second. She looked so much like Tiana that I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t her.

“Well… a partisan.”

“Dolorés, what are you doing?”

I glanced behind me, seeing a staircase. The woman from last night was slowly descending it, this time dressed in her day clothes.

“She was just standing guard,” I answered for her, “She thought we were soldiers.”

The woman rushed over, gently coaxing the gun from the girl, “Dolorés, no. They’re with Wolfram. You remember Wolfram, right?”

The girl’s face seemed to light up a little, “Wolfram?”

“Yeah, we’re with Wolfram. But he’s sleeping right now,” I made a “lower your volume” gesture with my hand.

The girl nodded knowingly, as if she was keeping some sort of secret, and kept her voice down, “When will he be awake?”

I could only respond with a shrug.

Of course, the movement seemed to just snap me back to reality. My arms ached like utter hell, especially my right. The aching seemed to course all the way into my shoulder blades, making any movement at all at least somewhat painful. And that’s not even to mention the sheer exhaustion in my body. Even after a few hours of rest, I felt like hibernating for a few years.

If I looked half as bad as I felt, I must’ve seemed like a mess.

“Do you have a bathroom?” I asked. My voice would’ve been sheepish had it not been for the pain and exhaustion dampening it.

“Yes. It’s down the hallway to the left.”

My eyes snapped to a passageway I hadn’t even noticed.

“Thanks.”

With that, I quickly sequestered myself away in the restroom. It was humble, an old-looking bathtub with a toilet and a sink, touched up with a simple mirror hanging above it.

And by god I did, indeed, look like a mess.

My eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion, the pale blue only standing out even more when surrounded by puffy red. My hair had fallen out of its usual slicked back appearance, forming an unsightly fringe that seemed to go in every way at once. A small scar glared against my pale skin on my chin; I had no idea when that had formed.

I rubbed my eyes, a small groan escaping my lips. How had I fallen so far? From Konrad Feldpetzer, the bright young man with a promising academics career, to Konrad Feldpetzer, wanted Judeo-Bolshevik terrorist on the lamb.

The Konrad staring back at me just didn’t feel real. Like it had outpaced my own perception of myself. My wrinkled and unkempt clothes didn’t help at all, just making my already wiry frame look even more malnourished.

I felt… something in my chest, staring at my sorry state. A mixture of dread and pure sadness. The stare from my mirror self didn’t help either, blue eyes narrowed in what looked like pain.

And then I felt a tear slide down my cheek. Followed by another. And then another.

It started before I could even fully realize. I was crying. It felt like I was trapped in my own mind as I stared back into the mirror. The face staring back at me was on the verge of breaking, eyes scrunched up as if trying to keep back a flood.

I felt pathetic.

Before long, I was just silently sobbing. I didn’t even really know why. At the beginning, it was just an undefined sense of misery. But as I quietly stood in front of the mirror, my mind began stacking on more reasons.

I had served the Nazis. After barely doing anything to fight against them, I had run away to save my own hide. I left Annette behind to die, along with all the other Partisans. I was so far removed from my home back in Bavaria, from basically everything I’d ever known, that I just felt isolated.

I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to go back home.

It was all I could to do to just try not to have a full-on breakdown in front of the mirror for the next few minutes. I just couldn’t help the sensation of profound and utter loneliness that seemed to pervade every part of my mind.

I would take several more minutes just to get a lid on things, having to psyche myself up to some degree. Or at least just try to calm myself down.

Whether I wanted it or not, this was my situation. Crying about it wouldn’t do anything. The only option was to pick myself up and move forward, even if I had to drag myself on the ground to do so. Slowly, the crying subsided. I could finally breathe properly.

I took another few minutes to try to make myself presentable to give the puffiness time to subside. I combed my hair as best I could with my hands and splashed some water on my face. That helped, right?

After doing my best to look at least somewhat civilized and erase any evidence that I’d been crying, I stepped out the door knowing I’d have to deal with whatever came next.