Chapter 369 - 14: Whispers Before Judgment Day

Chapter 369: Chapter 14: Whispers Before Judgment Day

"Anna." Werner held her hand. "Thank you."

"Don’t be silly." Anna leaned on his shoulder. "We’re in this together, aren’t we? Helping you is helping myself."

The fire in the fireplace crackled, its warm light illuminating their faces.

"Werner," Anna began, her voice soft, "do you think... we’re really ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"Ready to face everything that’s coming." Anna turned her head to look at him. "The collapse of East Germany, purges by the new government... we can foresee all that. But what we don’t know is—what will happen to us in the process."

Werner fell silent.

As a Transmigrator, he knew the broad strokes of history—the Berlin Wall would fall, East Germany would disappear, and Germany would be reunified.

But he also knew with perfect clarity that history books made no mention of one Werner Betelich.

He didn’t know if he would be purged. He didn’t know if the carefully prepared evidence and witnesses would actually be of any use, or if the blackmail material he had on West German officials could protect him.

He was just an ordinary Transmigrator, not an omniscient, all-powerful god.

"To be honest, I’m not sure either," Werner said slowly. "We’ve made a lot of preparations—destroying incriminating evidence, preserving favorable evidence, accumulating favors, and getting leverage on West German officials. But is it enough? I don’t know."

"I don’t know either," Anna said. "Werner, I’ve seen too much during my years with the Stasi. People who were once powerful and influential, arrested overnight. All their connections, all their backers—none of it could save them. If the purges really begin in the future..."

Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip.

Werner reached out and took her hand. "Anna, we’re not like them. We started preparing long ago, laying the groundwork. Besides..."

"Besides what?"

"Besides, we’re still alive," Werner said seriously. "As long as we’re alive, there’s still a chance. Even if the worst happens, we still have our savings in Switzerland, fake passports, and an escape route."

Anna leaned on his shoulder and whispered, "I’m scared, Werner. Scared that we’ve made the wrong bet. Scared that we think we’re ready, when we’re not ready for anything at all."

Werner held her tighter, feeling her body tremble.

He could understand Anna’s fear. They were standing at a turning point in history, facing a completely unknown future. They could speculate, they could prepare, but they couldn’t be certain.

That uncertainty was more terrifying than any danger.

"The days ahead will be difficult," Werner said in a low voice. "Possibly even more difficult than we imagine. The new government will conduct purges, West Germany will investigate, the media will dig... We’ll be scrutinized, questioned, and suspected."

"Then we..."

"We can only take it one step at a time," Werner said. "We’ll use what we’ve prepared to protect ourselves, and handle things as they come. Anna, I can’t promise we’ll get out of this completely unscathed, but I can promise this—as long as I’m alive, I will protect you and Felix."

The two embraced, holding each other tightly in the firelight of the hearth.

Outside the window, the East Berlin night was deep.

The occasional sound of a siren drifted from the distance, along with faint chanting—the protests were still going, and the country was still in turmoil.

"Werner," Anna said softly in his arms, "no matter what happens next, I’ll be with you."

"I know." Werner kissed her hair. "We’ll face it together."

The firelight gradually dimmed, but the two remained in their embrace, neither one moving.

Every day to come would be a test.

They didn’t know if they could make it through, if their preparations were enough, or where fate would lead them.

The storm was coming, and all they could do was cling to each other, struggling forward in the gale.

*************

「October 25th, Wednesday, 8:00 PM.」

An old apartment building in the Prenzlauer Berg District of East Berlin.

The living room of a sixth-floor apartment was packed with people. Three sat on the sofa, four on the floor, and two more leaned against the windowsill. All of them were staring at the television, not saying a word.

The evening news from West Germany’s first television channel, ARD, was on.

On the screen, hundreds of East Germans were climbing over the fence of the West German embassy in Budapest. Some fell, only to get up and climb again. Some threw their children over the wall before jumping after them. Others clung to the bars of the embassy gate, crying and begging the police to let them in.

"My God," said the old woman on the sofa. "This... How is this possible..."

"Mom, keep your voice down," the middle-aged man beside her whispered. "The neighbors might be listening."

"Let them listen! I’ll say what I want!" The old woman raised her voice. "This country is finished! Completely finished! Look at these people, they’re all our fellow East Germans! Running like refugees!"

On the television, the screen cut to an interview with West German Foreign Minister Genscher.

"...The Federal Government calls on the East German authorities to respect human rights and allow their citizens the freedom to choose their place of residence. We are prepared to receive all our East German compatriots seeking asylum..."

"’Compatriots.’" The young man on the floor sneered. "They call us compatriots, but what does our government call us? Traitors? Defectors?"

"Chris, stop it," his girlfriend said, tugging at the corner of his shirt.

"Why shouldn’t I? I’m going to say it!" Chris shot to his feet, pointing at the television. "Look! This is the superiority of our East Germany! So superior that its people have to climb walls to escape!"

"Chris!" the middle-aged man snapped. "Are you trying to get our whole family sent to prison?"

Chris stared at his father, his eyes red. "Dad, don’t you find this ridiculous? Hiding in our own home, curtains drawn, secretly watching West German television, all while worrying about being reported by the neighbors. What kind of life is this? Huh? Is this any way for a person to live?"

The room fell silent.

The old woman began to sob.

"That’s enough, Chris. I know what you’re thinking; we all think it. But now is not the time to say these things. The Wall hasn’t fallen yet, and we’re still on this side. Being alive is more important than anything."

Chris didn’t say anything. He just sat back down on the floor, his eyes glued to the television screen.

On screen, a West German reporter was interviewing a young East German man who had just made it over the wall into the embassy. The young man’s face was covered in sweat and his clothes were torn, but his eyes shone.

"Why did you flee?" the reporter asked.

"Because I’ve had enough," the young man said. "Enough of the lies, enough of the surveillance, enough of having to endure the sour looks of shopkeepers just to queue for bread. I want to go somewhere I can breathe freely."

"Aren’t you afraid you won’t be able to go back? What about your family?"

The young man was silent for a few seconds, his eyes turning red. "My dad said if I really left, I should never come back. He said he didn’t want to see a traitor for a son."

"But you left anyway."

"Yeah. I left anyway." The young man wiped away a tear. "Because I knew if I didn’t, I would never forgive myself for the rest of my life."

In front of the television, Chris’s own tears began to fall.

**************

「Meanwhile, at the Stasi Headquarters in the Mitte District of East Berlin.」

In the records room three floors underground, four paper shredders were running simultaneously, filling the air with a piercing roar.

"The fifth one burned out again," a young Stasi officer said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Motor’s overloaded."

"Then tear them by hand!" his superior, a bald, middle-aged man, roared. "I don’t care how you do it, these documents must all be destroyed tonight!"

"But Section Chief, there are thirty thousand files here—"

"I said, destroy all of them!" The bald man kicked over a nearby cardboard box. "Don’t you get it? If this stuff falls into the hands of the West Germans, we’ll all be shot!"

The young officer didn’t dare say another word, simply lowering his head and continuing to feed documents into the shredder.

At the other end of the records room, two female clerks were tearing papers by hand. Their fingers were already worn raw with blisters, but they continued the mechanical action.

"Elsa," one of the clerks whispered, "do you think... we’re really finished?"

"Shut up and tear," Elsa said without looking up.

"But I heard West Germany has already prepared courts specifically to try Stasi personnel..."

"I told you to shut up!" Elsa suddenly raised her voice, slamming the documents in her hand onto the table. "If you want to die, go die on your own, but don’t drag me down with you!"

The clerk flinched in fear and didn’t dare speak again.

Elsa took a deep breath, picked up the documents again, and resumed tearing. But her hands were shaking, and her tears dripped onto the paper, smudging the ink.