Undying Love Books 1 and 2 by Brian Hesse (best ebook reader android TXT) đź“–
- Author: Brian Hesse
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Finding the Kowalski farm did not take much in way of powers of deduction. In their quick departure, both lovers left tell-tale signs of their existence in the burnt farmhouse. Indentations in the hay where both lovers slept, and made passionate love, still marked the Southwest corner of the barn. Charred earth and ashes from meager meals of the past, left a permanent stain signaling to the world that two human beings fought for survival in a world that seemed destined for destruction. Eldric, realized within minutes that both lovers needed help in their escape. The area was still patrolled by SS guards searching for hidden Jews. A steady stream of wounded Wehrmacht soldiers also flooded the area, as the wet season brought an abrupt halt to the German advance. Eldric surmised that foraging for food in such an area would be impossible without local help.
“Hello, Fabian Kowalski, may I come in?” asked Eldric, as he peeked into the half open wooden door of the Kowalski farmhouse.
“Certainly sir, come in,” replied Fabian, keeping his calm composure, despite the urge to attack Eldric and snap his neck before the questioning started. Without the armed guards stationed outside the front door, he may have just carried out his plan. Eldric’s frame was that of a child compared to his farm worked physique. Snapping Eldric’s neck would be as easy, he calculated, as snapping a wishbone in two.
“Please sit Major. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, but thank you for your hospitality. Believe it or not, I rarely receive a very warm welcome on my visits.”
Fabian was forced to suppress a laugh as he thought to himself, this crazy man really can’t believe why he is not liked. His humorous mood quickly changed to fear, as he thought, this man really does not know why he is not liked.
As if to confirm Fabian’s suspicions that Eldric was possibly insane, Eldric began, “Yes, people genuinely do not like me just because I hunt and kill Jews.” He had a puzzled expression on his face that, as Fabian could see, was genuine.
“You have a job to do, as we all do,” replied Fabian. He was no longer under any illusion that he could hide anything from this SS lunatic. This mad man who thought hunting and killing Jews was a perfectly normal occupation.
“So, Fabian. Now that we understand each other, you know what my next question will be.”
Fabian knew that he would eventually have to talk. Everyone always talks. But Eldric already knowing that Fabian was a partisan was to his advantage. He and his family would be killed anyway. So why talk too quickly about Aleksander and Anastazja. He thought to himself, maybe it is better to die knowing that I gave them a head start for as long as I can, rather than die as a coward, giving away the only friends I had in such a long time.
“Ok then, shall we get started?”
With this sentence, which was a code to the SS guards, both soldiers entered the home with guns drawn, and pointed at Fabian’s head.
“Secure him to the chair.”
With this command, the young SS officer to Fabian’s right, secured his hands and feet to the arms and legs of the kitchen chair.
The torture lasted for two hours. With each broken finger, smashed toe, and pulled healthy tooth, Fabian gave bits and pieces of information pertaining to partisan operations, but he did not discuss the runaway lovers. Fabian was determined to protect the only beautiful thing that could ever exist in such a dark chaotic world, undying love.
“I know what you are thinking Fabian. You are thinking that you tricked me. You are thinking that I wasted two hours, and that I will never get the information I want.”
Eldric walked to the far corner of the room and with a single blow of his right leather boot, smashed the wooden boards of the wall directly below the staircase. He reached inside and, one by one, threw his wife Helena, his ten-year-old daughter, Justina, and twelve-year-old son, Leon to the floor.
“Now, tell me where they are going.”
This was beyond the temporary pain of torture. Even if there was the slightest chance that his family would live, he would have to talk.
“Please forgive me my friends,” he whispered, as blood and shattered tooth dripped from his stubbled chin. Fabian gave the destination of Aleksander and Anastazja.
Before leaving the Kowalski farmhouse, both armed SS guards killed the family of four with a single gunshot to the back of their heads.
Impending Death
Both lovers remained as still as possible in the dark suffocating space of, what Aleksander thought with a deepening dread, a coffin built for two. Anastazja, lying on top of Aleksander, pressed herself as close to his shivering body as possible. She was unaware of the painful burning in his chest each time he gasped for breath under her weight, but he did not make his discomfort known. He was as frightened as she, but was too proud to allow such a revelation to exasperate her own terror. Anastazja could not remain silent any longer. She refused to die with the regret of things left unsaid. Not a superstitious type of woman, easily swayed by notions of luck or preplanned destiny, she nevertheless felt an urgency to unburden her soul, in the likely event that both would die on this night.
“Aleksander, she whispered softly into his ear, I have a confession to make.”
Aleksander braced himself for the words he never wanted to hear. He was an educated man, and understanding of the ways of the world. Human nature was not such a mystery to him. He was known to proclaim to his students, that it is a fine line indeed that separates people from animals. He was always proud of his ability to notice patterns, predictable patterns that all creatures on Earth are compelled to follow. Like the tides that move on the command of the moon, people move on command of primitive drives.
“There is nothing you can’t tell me my dear. I will never think differently of you.”
Both lovers could hear the barking of the German shepherds coming closer to the barn. Aleksander judged that they would arrive at their location in just minutes.
He continued, “hurry my dear, we haven’t much time.
He could feel hot tears run down the lines of her face onto his. She kissed him tightly and began with a quivering voice, “I’m pregnant, and the child is not yours.”
Despite his mental preparation for anything she had to confess, he felt his chest tighten, as if his heart stopped for just a moment. He expected her to profess a simple crush or, in his eyes, a minor indiscretion from the past, but this revelation was enough to break his heart.
She continued, “In order for me and my friend Sarah to get work at the ghetto, I had to do favors with a high-ranking member of the Jewish council.” She began to cry loud enough to add to Aleksander’s growing dread. But his growing anger turned its attention away from his lover. He was also guilty of surviving at all cost in the ghetto. One would starve to death without embracing one’s basic animalistic drive to live just another day. He knew that she had to do what was necessary, just to make it back into his arms.
“I understand my love. We are both guilty of wanting to live.”
She could feel his smile as their lips pressed tightly together. He already made the decision to love the child, if for no other reason, simply because it is part of her.
The dogs, guards, and their savior, the owner of the property, were now just outside the door. Both lovers held their breath as they listened to the characteristic sound of SS jack boots walking heavily across the decaying wooden floor.
“Start here, and cover the whole area,” commanded the voice of one of the SS guards.
Before Anastazja and Aleksander had time to think, the ear-piercing sound of machine gun fire filled the room. Although terrified, Aleksander was grateful to breathe normally without being heard over the sounds of bullets hitting the floor and splinters of wood flying through the air.
The sounds of splintering wood came closer to, what they were sure was, their final resting place. Both lovers closed their eyes and waited for the bullets to riddle their bodies from above.
The machine gun fire stopped. Aleksander thought with great relief, efficiency can sometimes equal stupidity. The young soldier firing into the floor was instructed to cover the area. To him, the area only consisted of the floor that was showing. Aleksander and Anastazja were under bales of hay, and were spared death once more since their nightmare journey began.
“Now what of my floor,” replied the familiar voice of the farms owner. Aleksander could detect a hint of genuine anger, with even more genuine theatrics.
“You are lucky the Reich still allows you to live, you Polish pig,” came the reply of the SS guard leader.
Anastazja, with eyes still closed, guessed that at least an hour has gone by. She slowly opened her eyes and could see a faint white stream of sunlight break through a small crack in the corner of the hideout. She could see the faint outlines of Aleksander’s still face. She felt a mixture of fear and relief surge through her shivering frame. She was fearful, that after the moment of danger, his feelings may have changed for her. She was relieved because they cheated death once again, in a world where death has become master of all. Her fear quickly faded as he opened his eyes, smiled at her, and kissed her with more passion than she ever felt before within his arms.
“Come on my favorite stowaways,” came the voice of Gustav Michenko.
The trap door of the hideout was flung back, and both lovers squinted as a full blast of the suns brilliant morning glow reached their bloodshot eyes.
After a few moments of crawling out of the hole and regaining their composure, Gustav extended the large calloused hand of a hard-working Polish farmer.
“My name is Gustav, and you are welcome here for as long as you want. I love danger, and more than that, I love killing Nazi pigs.” He laughed with such a deep guttural tone, that the entire room brightened, outshine even the brilliance of the encroaching sun.
Aleksander guiltily interrupted, “You know sir, you will be in danger by keeping us here. We are fugitives
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