Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Karl settled into his seat on the train and closed his eye. He tried to put the images conjured up from the newspaper article out of his head, but they wouldn’t leave. The paper itself prodded into his side uncomfortably, and probably didn’t help. He debated throwing it in the nearest bin, but something made him hold onto it.

The train made a sudden jerk, and began moving. Slowly, the station moved aside, and after what seemed like mere moments they had left the city and were surrounded by green fields. The train picked up speed quickly, and Karl found the gentle rocking of the carriage to be quite soothing.

Looking out the window, he watched a vast cemetery fly past. He thought of the plots he had picked out with Viktoria before he left for the war. They had wanted the family buried together, and he hoped that their planning had been carried out in his absence.

He retrieved the paper from his pocket and spread it out on the table in front of him. The headline screamed at him about ‘hyperinflation’, something that Karl had never heard of before. He ran his eye lazily over the front page. Slowly, and with a sickening feeling of dejection, he realised how out of tune he was with his country. The death of his family had been a barrier to it all, a reason to ignore what was happening around him and an excuse to focus on the future. But such thinking couldn’t last, it was a plaster over a gaping wound. They had lost the war! Why was he only coming to this understanding now?

He rolled up the paper again. It was too much for the time being. Later, when things were quieter, he promised himself he would go through everything he had missed. As the train rattled and shook its way out of Munich and towards Grobern and home, he felt himself relax slightly. Hinterkaifeck would be the perfect place to discover what the world had been up to, ever since he went over that trench all those years ago. Perhaps, he mused, he would discover something of himself there, too.

He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair. At forty-eight, Karl was still in exceptionally good shape. Whether through his training in the army, or his generally active lifestyle on the farm, he was both physically fit and mentally sharp. He was glad the last five years had not acted against him in those respects, aside from his poor vision.  

He caught a sudden flurry of movement out the corner of his eye. Glancing across, Karl watched as a young lady tried to catch a falling cup from the refreshment trolley she was currently pushing down the carriage. It hit the floor with a loud clang, and rolled towards him. Reaching down he picked it up, and stood to pass it back. As she smiled a thank you at him, he looked down the train and saw Henrik Faust slowly ambling towards him.

He rolled back in his seat. He couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t seem as though Faust had spotted him yet. Sneaking a second glimpse, he watched the police officer check each seat as he went up the carriage. Karl realised he would have to move.

Half-standing, he slipped out his seat before the refreshment trolley cut him off. He moved quickly, his eye searching out somewhere to hide. As he reached the door to the next carriage, he reached for the handle, grabbed it on the second try and slid it open. Turning sideways, he closed the door as he stepped through it. A backward glance showed Faust clumsily squeezing past the refreshment trolley, apologising to the woman as he did so.

Karl was in another passenger car. He moved quickly down the aisle – still no place to hide. As he slithered into the next carriage, he heard the horrifying sound of the door he had just passed through sliding open. Faust was catching up; had he been seen?

He turned to look as he closed the door behind him, and locked eyes with the police officer.

Karl swore, ramming the door shut. Looking around, he saw he was in the luggage compartment. Rattling metal shelves lined both sides, filled to bursting with suitcases and bags. He reached for one, began moving it to block the door, before realising his pursuer would just slide it open. He moved down the centre of the carriage, frantic. Faust could only be seconds away.

He ran his eye over his surroundings. Shafts of light sliced through the grimy air, entering from even grubbier windows. A crazy thought occurred to him. Grabbing a small case, he raised it high and swung it at the window. There was a might crash, and glass sparkled as cool, crisp air rushed into the compartment.

“Freeze!”

Karl stopped, one hand on the broken window. He felt his heart sink. Turning his head, he saw Faust standing in the doorway, his pistol raised. He looked a little scared, and his hands were trembling slightly. Karl wondered if it was the first time he’d ever pointed a gun at someone.  

“Come down from there,” Faust said, “and get those hands up.”

Karl took a step back, the bitter wind bringing in white snow and swirling it around the carriage. Slowly he raised his arms.

Faust nodded. He looked somewhat relieved. “Now we’re going to go back and sit down, and get off at the next stop, ok?”

Karl kept his eye trained on the officer. He began walking towards him, his hands still in the air. Faust took a step back, keeping his gun trained on him.

“Don’t try anything,” Faust said, “or I swear, I’ll shoot you.”

Karl ambled closer. He was within grabbing distance of the gun. He felt pressure behind his fingertips as he tensed his hand, seeing in his mind how he would grab the pistol from the young officer, maybe smack him in the face with it. Knock him out cold. Then get off at the next stop and change trains.

And then he thought about how he might miss, might clutch at empty air. Might get his head blown off by some rookie two weeks out the academy.

Karl gritted his teeth and walked past him, and moved into the passenger car. Behind him, he heard Faust slip his weapon back into his holster; probably didn’t want to start a panic.

He went to sit down in an empty seat. He waited just a fraction of a second, until he was almost bending down in front of Faust, then pushed up with all his might, connecting his shoulder into Faust’s chest.

The young officer was knocked back, clean off his feet. He landed with a loud thump, and Karl saw the wind rush out of him. He heard someone scream, and immediately began moving down the carriage. He didn’t really know where he was going, just that he had to get off the train somehow. People were starting to shout and move in their seats, and Karl knew he didn’t have much time.

Looking back, he saw Faust get to his feet angrily. Karl broke out into a run, colliding with the adjoining door and tearing it open. Falling through, he moved quickly through the next carriage. He could hear Faust’s footsteps behind him, not quite able to mask the sound of metal scraping against leather as his gun was pulled.

“Karl!” Faust shouted. “That’s enough!”

It was all or nothing, mere moments remained until Faust had his pistol in hand. The emergency brake line dangled above Karl’s head. He reached for it, grabbed at air and heard an explosion behind him as Faust let off a shot.

The bullet buried itself into the side of the train. There was a sudden hush from the passengers and Karl froze. Slowly, realisation sank through him like thick syrup. It was over. He wouldn’t be going back to Hinterkaifeck today, nor anytime soon most likely.

He felt the cold, sharp bite of metal snap around his wrists, as Faust handcuffed his hands behind his back.