Ragnarok

Chapter Thirteen

Farm #342, Germany East

1 November 1985

“This looks like a small fortress,” Kurt noted, as they drove towards the gates. “I’ve been in military bases that had fewer defences.”

Horst shrugged. “It’s fairly normal for Germany East,” he said. “You never know when you might come under attack.”

He felt a flicker of homesickness as they stopped in front of the gates. The farm itself wasn’t that big, but it was surrounded by a heavy metal fence and a handful of concrete firing positions. It didn’t look as though they were manned — and the barren fields looked deserted, the crops taken in for winter — yet he knew, from his early life, that they could be manned at terrifying speed if there was an attack. Every Easterner knew he might have to fight for his life at any moment.

“Stay polite,” he muttered. “Inspectors or not, we don’t want to anger them.”

He climbed out of the car, breathing in the familiar smell of farmland. A young girl — a year or two younger than Gudrun, if he was any judge — was walking down the drive towards the gates. She wore a checked dress that showed off both her chest and her muscles, her blonde hair plaited and hanging down to brush against the top of her breasts. And she carried a rifle, slung over her shoulder. Horst knew better than to assume she couldn’t use it. Chances were she’d be a very good shot.

And she might be covered by someone else too, he reminded himself. The sky was darkening rapidly. They might suspect our motives.

“Greetings, Fräulein,” he said, once the girl was in earshot. “My comrade and I seek shelter for the night.”

The girl looked him up and down, her eyes wary. Horst held out his papers and allowed her to read them, wondering if she’d be able to tell the difference between real papers and cunning fakes. It would be ironic indeed if they were caught because a young girl insisted on checking with Germanica before allowing them through the gate. But she nodded, glanced behind the car and then opened the gate. Horst ordered Kurt to drive the car up to the farmhouse, then followed him at a more sedate pace. The girl locked and bolted the gate before walking up beside him.

“It’s not been safe out there,” she said, gently. “Did you run into trouble?”

“None,” Horst assured her. They’d passed a dozen plantations, but they hadn’t seen any signs of real trouble. “What have you been hearing?”

The girl didn’t answer as they reached the farmhouse. It looked very much like a blockhouse, despite the desperate attempts to make it a little more homey. A middle-aged man was standing by the door, arms folded across his chest. Horst had no difficulty in recognising him as a military veteran as well as an experienced farmer and stern father, not someone who was likely to put up with any nonsense. He couldn’t help feeling a flicker of sympathy for the girl.

“Heidi, tell the girl to put more food in the stew pot,” the man said gruffly. He looked directly at Horst. “And who are you?”

“Travellers, father,” Heidi said. She held out Horst’s papers. “They’ve come from the front.”

“Go do as you’re told,” the man ordered. He scanned Horst’s papers for a long moment, then motioned for the two visitors to enter the farmhouse. Heidi scurried ahead of them and vanished in the distance. “I’m afraid we only have a hard floor and some blankets for guests.”

“That will be quite sufficient,” Horst said, as he followed the farmer into his house. The interior reminded him of his family’s house, further to the east. “All we really need is something to eat, something to drink and a place to stay.”

“I can do that,” the man said. He led the way into a dining room, of sorts. The walls were solid concrete, but all the furniture was wood. “Are you going all the way back to Germanica?”

“That’s what our orders say,” Horst said.

“Tell them we need more manpower out here,” the old man said. He poured three glasses of schnapps and handed them round. “The serfs are getting restless.”

“And my brothers have gone to the war,” Heidi said, coming back into the room. “Have you seen them?”

“Probably not,” Horst said. He didn’t miss the look Heidi shot at Kurt. “But the war front was very disorganised when we were called back to Germanica.”

He chatted to the farmer, watching — with some private amusement — as Heidi flirted inexpertly with Kurt. She’d probably pegged him as a Westerner from the start, someone who would either take her away from the farm or come to live and work with her, rather than someone who would take her down the road to another farm. He hoped Kurt had enough sense not to do anything stupid, no matter how charming Heidi was. The last thing they needed was a father insisting on an immediate marriage — or worse. There was no way their papers would stand up to inspection at a registry office.

“The girl is late,” Heidi said, twenty minutes later. “I’ll go fetch her.”

She rose and walked out of the room. The farmer motioned for them to rise and take their seats around the wooden table, refilling their glasses as they sat down. A faint slapping sound echoed out of the kitchen; a moment later, Heidi entered, followed by a dark-skinned woman with a nasty bruise on her right cheek. The woman was carrying a large pot, which she placed on the table before bowing and withdrawing from the room. She was so thin, Horst noted, that she looked almost like a walking skeleton.

“I apologise,” Heidi said. “You can’t get good help these days.”

Kurt looked shocked, Horst saw, although thankfully he had the sense to keep his opinion to himself. His family had probably never had a Gastarbeiter maid, even though his father could probably have obtained one if he’d wanted. Horst, who had seen too many servants on his father and uncle’s farms, took it in stride. It was just part of life in the Reich.

“Really, the war is sucking away too many people,” the farmer said. “There’s a whole plantation just down the road with minimal supervision.”

Horst nodded. “It’s the war,” he said. “As soon as the traitors are defeated, things will return to normal.”

He eyed the farmer carefully, wondering just what side the man was on. Talking so freely to a pair of inspectors… did he think himself beyond reproach? Beyond punishment for defeatism? Or was he just too old to care? A man who had served the Reich loyally for decades might be quietly ignored, if he asked too many questions towards the end of his life.

Besides, Horst thought, who’s going to hear him out here?

Kurt leaned forward. “Can the two of you handle the farm on your own?”

“For the moment,” Heidi said. She gave Kurt a charming smile. “But what will happen when spring rolls around and we have to plant more crops?”

“We won’t be leaving,” her father said, gruffly.

Horst felt a spark of pity. They weren’t that far from the front. Heidi and her father would probably have to watch their farmhouse converted into a strongpoint, if they weren’t overwhelmed by western armies or killed by bandits. The slave might be beaten down… or she might be in touch with outsiders, telling them to wait for a chance to storm the farm. It wasn’t as if two people could hold the wire indefinitely.

“I hope your sons make it back,” he said, finally.

“So do I,” the old man said. “So do I.”

Kurt had known, from what he’d learned before he’d met Horst for the first time, that Germany East was different from Germany Prime. But he hadn’t really believed it, despite Horst’s words. The farmhouse and the farmers were… strange, by his standards; the old man seemed to trust his daughter, allowing her to carry a weapon and even talk to strange men without interference. And Heidi had casually slapped her servant…

It bothered him, more than he cared to admit. His father had never allowed a servant — Gastarbeiter or not — to enter their family house, even though his wife had had enough children to qualify for one. The poor girl might be a servant, but still… she didn’t deserve to be treated like a slave. And yet… there was nothing he could do.

“I shall withdraw for the night,” the farmer said. “Heidi, bring the gentlemen blankets and pillows.”

“Of course, father,” Heidi said.

She shot Kurt a look — she’d been shooting him looks all evening — and then turned and hurried out of the door. Kurt honestly wasn’t sure what to make of her. No girl, at least in his experience, had ever been so forward, certainly not with him. Gudrun would have been grounded for the rest of her life if she’d acted like that — Kurt dreaded to think what their parents would have said, after they found out. But Heidi seemed to live by different rules.

The farmer rose and made his way slowly out of the room. Horst watched him go, then glanced sharply at Kurt. “Be careful,” he muttered. “You don’t want to get her pregnant.”

Kurt looked back at him, feeling his cheeks flush. “We’re not going to do anything,” he protested. “I don’t understand…”

“Be careful,” Horst repeated. “I’ll explain later.”

Heidi returned, carrying a pair of large blankets and pillows. They looked rough, compared to proper bedding, but Kurt had plenty of experience sleeping in foxholes. Pillows and blankets would be practically paradisiacal, compared to cold ground and open air. She spoke quietly to Horst, telling him where to find the bathroom, then started to organise the blankets on the floor.

“You were born in Berlin,” she said. “What’s it like?”

“It’s just like any city,” Kurt said. He wasn’t a virgin, but the way Heidi was moving was incredibly distracting. There was just something about her that drew him to her, even though she wasn’t quite the ideal of German womanhood. He’d never seen a girl so muscled in his entire life. “Far too many people to be comfortable.”

“Nothing like a farm,” Heidi said. “What’s it like?”

Kurt considered his answer for a long moment. “Very different from a farm,” he said, finally. “I had to go to school… did you go to school?”

“I had a day or two every week at the village,” Heidi said. She looked down at the wooden floorboards for a long moment. “That was enough for me, according to father. My brothers didn’t get much more until they joined the Hitler Youth.”

Kurt smiled. “There are giant shops where you can buy anything you like,” he said. “And cinemas and countless places to go…”

“With a girl,” Heidi said, deadpan. “Have you taken many girls to the cinema?”

“No,” Kurt said, feeling embarrassed. He’d dated a few times, but never seriously. He hadn’t even lost his virginity until he’d gone to the brothel, after his promotion. “Life in the city isn’t that free.”

“A pity,” Heidi said. “I saw a movie reel once about a city. It looked like paradise.”

“Here might look like paradise too,” Kurt said. He frowned. “How are things out here?”

Heidi sighed. “I don’t know how we’re going to get through the next year,” she admitted, reluctantly. “Father keeps telling me to keep my chin up, but…”

She shook her head. “We need my brothers back if we are going to plant anything,” she added, bitterly. “Or we have to hire workers from the east…”

“Or bring in more slaves,” Kurt said.

“I don’t know if we can trust them,” Heidi said. “There are only two of us here. And if we can’t meet our quotas…”

Kurt frowned. “What happens if you can’t meet your quotas?”

“I’m not sure,” Heidi confessed. “We might lose the farm. Or someone might be allocated to work here. Or…”

“I see, I think,” Kurt said.

He felt a sudden stab of sympathy for the younger girl. She wanted to stay on the farm. He couldn’t imagine her having any problems finding a husband in Germany East; she was pretty, smart and knew everything about working on a farm. And it probably wouldn’t have been hard for her to leave the farm, even without her father’s permission. No, she wanted to stay on her father’s farm…

Would she inherit? Kurt didn’t know. In Germany Prime, the father’s possessions would go to his sons — there were limits to how much could be passed to the daughters. But in Germany East, who knew? He had a feeling the land might go to whomever could work it.

Horst returned to the room, wearing a faded brown bathrobe that looked two sizes too small for him. Heidi glanced at him, then motioned for Kurt to follow her. There was no sign of the farmer — or the serving girl — as they walked down the short corridor and into a small bathroom. A steaming bucket of warm water sat next to the bathtub.

“We don’t have running water out here,” Heidi said. She smiled, oddly nervously. “The visitors we get from the cities always comment on it.”

“There’s hot and cold running water in Berlin,” Kurt said. He’d never really appreciated what a luxury it was until he’d gone into barracks, where spending more than a minute under the water was bound to attract the wrath of the Scharführers. “I always loved standing under the shower.”

Heidi nodded as he turned to face her, then moved forward and kissed him, hard. Kurt suddenly found himself torn between his body, which was reacting in all sorts of ways to the beautiful girl in his arms, and his mind, which insisted that kissing her back was a very bad idea. But it seemed a small concern, a very small concern, when she was alive and warm and…

He kissed her back, feeling her shuddering against him. His hands roamed over her dress, feeling her muscles moving as she stroked his back. Her tongue flicked in and out of his mouth as his fingers fiddled with her dress, eventually allowing it to fall to her waist; her breasts bobbled free, jutting out firmly and pressing against his chest. She didn’t need a bra, part of his mind noted as his fingers started to stroke her breasts; her fingers were fiddling with his belt, trying to undo it…

Somehow, he pulled back. “Your father,” he said. He grunted in shock as she pulled him back, her hands reaching into his underwear to take hold of his cock. “What… what will he say if he catches us?”

Heidi’s face flickered with… irritation. “Nothing.”

Kurt stared at her. He knew precisely what his father would have said — and done — if he’d caught Gudrun making love to a stranger. Gudrun wouldn’t have been able to sit comfortably for a week, while the stranger would have been pitched out of the house… if he hadn’t been arrested and hauled off to jail. He couldn’t believe that any father, anywhere, would turn a blind eye. Hell, he doubted his father wanted to think about what his married daughter did with her husband.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said. It wasn’t easy to turn her down, not when he could see her bare breasts and her hand was holding him, but somehow he mustered the will. “I can’t leave you here.”

Heidi let go of him, her face cycling through a bewildering series of emotions. Tears formed at the corner of her eyes, genuine tears. Kurt felt an odd stab of guilt, realising that he’d humiliated her by turning her down. And yet… he couldn’t just sleep with her, then leave her behind.

“I’m sorry,” Heidi said. She stepped backwards and turned away from him, buttoning up her dress. Kurt forced himself to look away, even though parts of his body were screaming at him for being an idiot. “I thought… never mind.”

Kurt reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “You thought what?”

“We need someone else here,” Heidi said, sadly. She refused to turn and look at him. “And if you had stayed with me, you could have helped save the farm.”

“I don’t know how to run a farm,” Kurt said. He felt a sudden surge of pity. Heidi didn’t just need a man, Heidi needed a man who would stay on her farm. “And your brothers will come back…”

Heidi laughed, bitterly. “And do you really think they’ll be back before it’s too late?”

She turned to face him. “Stay with me,” she said. “We need you.”

“I have my duty,” Kurt said, bluntly. Did she expect him to give up his job? Or had she simply not thought that far ahead? “But when it’s done, I’ll see what I can do.”

Heidi snorted, then strode out of the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. Kurt stared after her, unsure if he should be relieved or angry at himself. Heidi had definitely been something different, but he understood her problem. He understood it all too well.

And there’s no way I can come back, he told himself, firmly. There was a bit of him that liked her, that admired her willingness to take an awful risk for her father’s farm. He wished, suddenly, that he’d met her without deception. And if I do, after the war, who knows what she will make of me?

Shaking his head, he washed quickly and headed back to the dining room. They’d have to leave early, in the morning…

…And, unless he was very lucky, he knew he would never see the farmhouse again.