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skarsgard-daydreams · 4 years

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Voices Carry

Ch. 2: “Don’t Turn Around”

Description: Merkel accepts a job to smuggle a young woman out of East Berlin, and it turns out to be more than he bargained for.

Warnings: smoking, poor grasp of the German language, possible historical liberties, probable sexual content in the future

Notes: Thank you for the positive feedback! I tried to make it possible to work out the meaning of the German phrases in this chapter based on context, but I also included a glossary at the end.

A dull roar filled the grimy subway station and a rush of wind blew past as the red and yellow S-Bahn train came out of the tunnel, slowing to a stop in front of the platform crammed with commuters. Irina adjusted the bag on her shoulder and shuffled onto the train with the other men and women wearing long thick coats and woolen scarves, all of them weary from work and longing to be home. Jostled by the crowd, Irina moved further into the train and grabbed hold of a pole to keep her balance as the train shot forward, the familiar roar filling the car. That’s when she felt his breath on her ear.

The tall man behind her spoke softly, stretching an arm over her to grab onto the same pole she was holding. “Irina König?” he asked, standing close enough that she caught the scent of tobacco and a warm, woody cologne laced with spices on his clothes as he spoke directly into her ear in a way that would have felt intimate if she knew who he was.

Every muscle in Irina’s body tensed. She nodded slowly.

“Your father asked me to meet you,” said the man. “Stay on at the next stop.”

Irina said nothing. She had no idea who this man was or if he was actually sent by her father. Her jaw tightened as she gripped the pole with clammy hands, realizing that this man knew where she normally got off the train. Maybe he’d been following her for some time. She glanced up at his hand resting against the pole. He easily towered over her, and he was standing in the path of her only exit.

The sign at the end of the car flipped over, displaying LENINALLEE as the train slowed. An idea began to form in Irina’s mind. She couldn’t outrun or overpower this man, but maybe if she caught him by surprise, she could push him out of the train at the platform. If she timed it right, the doors would close and he wouldn’t have enough time to get back on before it sped off.

Just as the train came to a stop, the man placed his hand firmly on Irina’s shoulder and propelled her further into the car. Stunned, she moved forward without resisting. More commuters piled in behind them, blocking access to the door. The man gave Irina a little push and she fell into an open seat. She looked up at him, her heart hammering. He loomed over her, dressed in a long blue overcoat with the collar turned up against the wind. He had dark hair that was buzzed short on one side and the most intense eyes she had ever seen. On the surface, his expression seemed neutral—almost bored—until you looked at his eyes. They were gravely serious. The man glanced over his shoulder as the train doors closed again, then fixed his gaze on Irina. She swallowed hard.

The train rushed on, stopping at two more stations. Neither of them spoke. Irina weighed whether this man was telling the truth as the train rattled through a curve in the tunnel. It wasn’t impossible. Johannes König was a paranoid man, and he had often talked about finding a way to send Irina to live with her aunt and uncle in the West. It wouldn’t be unlike him to send someone to find her if something ever happened to him.

Irina looked back up at the man, her stomach twisting with worry. “My father,” she began. “Is he…?” Her voice sounded smaller than she’d intended. Vulnerable. She tried to find the words to finish her question, but fell short, and instead sat there fuming for showing that side of herself to a total stranger, even if it was just for a moment.

The man stared down at her with those deep, hazel-green eyes for a long moment. “I saw him this morning,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. Irina pressed her lips together tightly.

The train slowed again and the man beckoned her to get up. “Kommen Sie mit,” he said. Irina rose to her feet and wrapped her light brown coat around herself more tightly as she walked out onto the platform. She felt the man’s hand press against the small of her back, and he guided her out of the station, following closely behind. Irina recognized the bombed-out ruin of a train station that hadn’t been repaired after the war and guessed they were in Friedrichshain. The man steered her wordlessly up the street and turned left into an alley that had been renamed for a famous Russian patriot and filled with identical concrete apartment blocks. He paused in front of one of the buildings and pulled the door open, holding it for her.

Irina paused, too, and looked at him hard. “You haven’t even told me your name.”

The man arched his brow slightly, seeming surprised at her sudden defiance. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold air, and it gave him a boyish quality. “Call me Merkel,” he said.

“Merkel,” she repeated, but she didn’t move. She searched his face for any sign she should trust him.

Merkel watched her quietly. “Alles klar?” he asked after a moment.

Irina wanted to scoff and tell him that was a stupid question. Either he was being honest, and her father was in deep trouble, or he was lying, and she was the one in trouble. She had never been worse. She sniffed from the cold air and then nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. The wind rattled the door. As they stood there, an old woman dressed in her nightgown appeared on the second-floor landing and shouted down at Merkel.

“Schließe die Tür!”

“Ja, Frau Engel,” Merkel said quickly. He ushered Irina inside and pulled the door shut tightly against the wind. He walked up the stairs and gave the wrinkled woman a respectful nod as they passed her on the landing, where she stood scowling.

They ascended another flight of stairs and Merkel stopped outside one of the apartments on the third floor, sliding his key into the lock. Irina followed him inside, sweeping her gaze across the room, looking for any clues that might suggest malicious intent. The apartment was small, with stark white walls and dark hardwood floors that needed polishing. A plush orange couch sat against one wall in the living area, facing a small television set that teetered haphazardly on top of several record boxes. Records and books were stacked everywhere, and the coffee table was littered with yesterday’s newspapers, a half-empty box of Cabinet Reds, and a pile of cassette tapes with handwritten labels.

“You don’t entertain much,” Irina observed, stepping over a pair of boots left in the doorway and sitting down on the sofa.

Merkel chuckled, kicking the boots aside. “How did you guess?” He moved to the cramped kitchen and busied himself with filling a copper kettle at the sink.

Irina shivered. The apartment was warmer than it had been outside, but just barely. She leaned forward and took a cigarette out of the box, lighting it with a match. She took a long drag, reclining back against the cushions, and watched Merkel as he fiddled with the finicky knobs on the old gas stove in the kitchen. Blue flames suddenly erupted under the base of the kettle and he yanked his hand away quickly, letting out a small exasperated huff that made Irina laugh to herself.

Something about the way he’d acted toward the elderly woman had set Irina’s mind at ease. Perhaps she was being naïve, but she suspected if he was going to hurt her, he would’ve done it already. Merkel had brought her here with little more than gentle coaxing, and his apartment seemed ordinary enough for a young bachelor in East Berlin. Irina crossed one leg over the other and brought the cigarette back to her lips. No, she wasn’t concerned for herself any longer. But if her father had sent someone to meet her, she knew that something terrible was about to happen.

German Glossary

Kommen Sie mit - come with me

Alles klar? - you good? (though it can be used in different ways)

Schließe die Tür - close the door

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