A Flicker of Light (4 page)

She would not fail her baby; she could not. Her tears fell onto the letter, smearing the ink. Without Hans, the
Lebensborn
would surely take the infant. And God help
her, if the baby came into the world somehow imperfect, the Nazis would surely destroy it. She
’
d heard rumors whispered among the girls of the fate that awaited unsuitable children. What had she done? What devil’s contract had she entered into? She must escape from this place, she realized, and she must do it tonight.

If she could just get far enough away from the Institute, she could try to find a ride back to
Norway
. She could not be sure how she would be received by her family, if she did in fact manage to find her way home, but she must try. If only she’d asked Hans where to find his parents’ farm, she could have gone there. But since she did not know where it was, she could not find it. Although the plan had no depth, nothing concrete to it at all, she knew she had to try. Petra bit her lower lip and called upon the stubborn nature of her ancestors. After all, had her father not told her she had the blood of the Vikings running through her veins? She had to do this; she simply had no other option. The child whose tiny heart beat steadily within her womb depended upon her.

“It's all right. We're going to be all right,” she whispered to the baby.

Once Ursula was asleep, she would wait a while for everyone else to get settled,
and
then get out before the
guards changed their shift at midnight. An amusing and well-known fact among the girls had to do with Frau
Klingerman’s
“watch” over the house. Her tour of duty began at lunch time and continued until midnight, when she retired to her bedroom upstairs. Once the evening meal ended and night
fell
, Frau
Klingerman
, instead of patrolling the rooms, could be found sound asleep in her overstuffed easy chair, her round face resting on a full set of hairy chins. The old woman snored and grunted in her dreams. Fatigued from over indulgence in rich food, this “guar
d” would be unlikely to hear Petra
as she departed.

Feeling like a hunted deer, Petra des
cended the wooden staircase.
She wanted to run, yet she could barely walk as her unsteady legs threatened to give out beneath her. The wood creaked and groaned under her weight. But as predicted, Frau
Klingerman
sat with her legs splayed apart, lost in sweet slumber, a line of drool running from her mouth onto the bosom of her green dress. Beside her on the table sat an almost empty
cup
of schnapps and a plate of half-eaten pastries, with yellow custard oozing and forming a small pool on one side. A loud honking noise sprang from Frau
Klingerman's
lips, freezing Petra in her tracks. She gripped the banister with white knuckles as she watched the woman, paralyzed with fright. Petra could
not take a deep breath, and she panted like a startled animal. Finally, when Frau
Klingerman
did not awaken after a few minutes of observation, Petra continued on until she reached the end of the corridor.

Turning the door
knob with unsteady hands, she pulled her black wool coat tightly around her protruding belly.
Then, without looking back, Petra
stepped out into the
harsh
German winter. Late February brought a frigid north wind as she clutched a small handbag in her left hand; in her right she held her suitcase. Without a plan, Petra left the Institute forever.

Her eyes glanced up at the tower; the men on guard there continued to converse. She had not been noticed. Along the edge of the barbed wire, down on her knees, crawling, she felt for the opening in the fencing that she’d seen earlier in the day. As
she did, she felt a stinging pain in her hand
as the sharp wire sliced into her knuckle
s
. Once her bloody fingers found what they sought, Petra lifted the line and struggled underneath to freedom. Quickly she stood, and as the snow fell from her clothing, she ran with her heart racing faster than her feet could move.

Could that be the search light she saw?
Only another fifty feet to the edge of the forest
-
r
un!
Dear God, help me
!
Please
!
I am running for my life
!
I am running to save my baby!
Run
! Run!

S

he could not catch her breath.
With fewer than fifty feet
to the safety of the forest, Petra prayed she would not be spotted. Never looking back, she kept her eyes fixed on the freedom that lay just ahead. Her ample belly swung back and forth as she ran. An aching in her overly-sensitive breasts made her wince as she dashed across the field. Then a pain shot through her side, doubling her over, but she did not stop. At first mild, the throbbing grew stronger as she forced her feet forward
,
clutching her side. She knew that she must keep going.

If the guard in the tower saw her, he would ring the bell and then the dogs would be released. If the dogs did not tear her to shreds, she would be forced back to Heim
Hockland
. In the distance she could see the trees, dark and dense, promising refuge if her feet would only move fast enough to get her there. An animal, perhaps a wolf or a fox, howled as
she finally gained the shelter of the forest and
hid behind a tree, and for a moment escape seemed as dangerous as prison. She bent over, gasping for breath. She had to stop for just a little while.

As she sat, trembling, she assessed her situation. In her youth she’d loved fairy tales, and therefore had always feared the woods. Now
the gnarled trees casting evil-
looking shadows in the moonlight reminded her of her night terrors. Grimacing, she realized she must wipe such thoughts and fears from her mind if she meant to survive.

She must travel on foot as far away from the Institute as possible. Then it might be safe to seek out a town or village. She began inventing a plausible story. She would need one when the time came to ask for help. Petra decided she would calmly inform those she encountered that while on her way from Mu
nich to visit friends in Denmark
, she had left her handbag, all of her money and
her papers in a café where she had
stopped to dine. When she
’
d returned to look for her things, no one claimed to have seen them. Perhaps
some kind souls might be
sympathetic to her plight
and
assist with food and water, and should good fortune favor, even a ride, as
she made her way back to Norway
. Distance would be the key. If she could get far enough away from Heim
Hockland
, no one would suspect she
had escaped from there
.

The cold sliced through her. Then reality set in. She realized she could never get home walking in this frigid weather. How far could she get before she froze to death?

Again she wished she had asked Hans for his parents’ address.  In the darkness the forest seemed like a dark
,
endless void, one that might swallow her.

Han
s had sent her a few
reich
s
marks
when he’d sent the admission papers to Heim
Hockland
. She might have enough
money
f
or a ticket, but she knew it would not be
safe to take the train back to Denmark. She must keep her papers hidden. If the authorities saw them and realized where she had come from, she would surely be returned to Heim
Hockland
.

Even worse, she knew if she were caught she would suffer severe punishment for running away. Over the short time she had spent in
Steinhoring
, she’d learned that the Nazis could be cruel, very cruel. Individual lives had no worth, only their precious Third Reich was of any value to them. And she knew firsthand that they would gladly kill to protect what they beli
eved in
, and never think twice. They did not tolerate any dissent.
R
unning away might cost her
life.

No, she decided that her best option had to be to try to catch rides with unsuspecting travelers. Of course, there would be the sea to contend with later, but if she
made it that far
, she would find a way to cross. And then if by some miracle she made it to her parents’ house, she
prayed that the birth of the infant would softe
n their hearts. Even her strong-
willed father would be forced to turn soft at the
sight of his first grandchild, w
ouldn’t he? An icy wind gusted down from the north on this crystal black night, as the stars sprinkled the sky like tiny guiding lights and the new moon gave just enough illuminat
ion to allow her to see the path
.

Petra navi
gated as carefully as she could
through the wooded area. Trees huddled close together, ripping her clothing and scraping her face as she forced the branches aside along the narrow trail on her way to
the main road.
There she would f
ind a ride going toward Denmark, from there it would be easier to get home.
Icicles hung precariously from the branches and fell at random. Petra allowed her mind to drift for a moment. She thought of the possible danger of being hit by falling ice. Her heart beat faster
,
but instead of focusing on the danger
,
she clenched
her jaw in defiance
and continued walking. Snow seeped into her shoes, turning to ice that froze her silk stockings to her feet. Trudging along through the darkness, the heaviness of the baby sent pain shooting through her hips and legs as the effort drained her color and turned
her skin an ashen gray. Absent-
mindedly, she reached for her abdomen a
nd stroked the child within. It was h
ard to
believe that only seven months ago she
had lain warm and safe in Hans’
arms, sweet joy and love surrounding her as the new life had found its way into her receptive womb. Now she would protect that gift of love with her life, if need be.

Twigs cracked and snow crunched beneath her feet, breaking the eerie quiet of the forest. An occasional hoot owl cried out in the distance. Thin tree limbs - frozen and devoid of leaves - reached out their bony fingers into the darkness, scraping at her exposed skin. Drops of blood froze onto her face. Gripping her coat tighter around her against the chill, her slender finger found a button.

Stroking the small
, round metal object
, she felt the tiny pattern of daisies imprinted upon it. Alone in the woods, she remembered how her mother had sewn that very same button back on for her when it had fallen off only last winter. Sitting on her sewing bench, her
silky
blonde hair tied at the nape of her neck into a bun, illuminated by the light of a small lamp, she had smiled when Petra had entered the room. Her mother retained her place as the angel of her childhood. How Petra had longed to be like her, with her soft, calm, gentle touch. But Petra had proven to be much more akin to her father, with his stubborn, insistent nature. When pressed to act against
her will, Petra had forcefully refused. A tear fell from her eye as she wished she could be sitting by the fire beside her mother sharing the joy of her pregn
ancy, with her younger brothers
at play on the floor in the living room, or running and yelling through the house until a word from h
er father
quieted them down. Lost in thought
,
she’d forgotten to pay attention to her path.

Petra was caught unaware
s
as her foot slid awkwardly on a stretch of ice. The suitcase flew from her hand as she instinctively tried to break the fall. Then her body slammed against the frozen ground. A sharp pain shot thr
ough her knee
as the tender flesh tore on a broken tree branch. A cry of despair escaped her lips and culminated in a sobbing frenzy as she lay face down in the snow. Scraped and bleeding, she saw that the only pair of silk stockings she owned was torn, and blood
seeped from the deep cut
. Her toes were numb, but still tingling, and she realized they might be frostbitten. She must not allow herself to weep. It was an indulgence she could not afford.

Hopelessness turned to anger; she would not allow herself or her baby to die here in these d
esolate woods.
Then, with great effort, she forced herself back to her feet. She wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her dirty, bloodstained hand and pulled her suitcase out of the
snow. Gritting her teeth and limping on one leg, she continued on her way.