"You dealt," Paweł said, slightly disappointed, looking at his cards, which contained three nines. "Next time, I'll deal.
" "Stop talking, just get out!
" "Then give me something." A card with the number ten fluttered onto the table.
"Wrong!" Damian practically screamed. "I'm taking it. What's wrong? Leave those cards, I beat you with an ace.
" "If you had dealt fairly, the game would have been different!" Paweł argued.
"Draw a card." Damian reminded him again.
"Ah, I got dealt a fourth nine. That's a bummer," Paweł said, throwing his cards on the table. He sat down in a chair that was quite comfortable for the time. "Playing thousand-dollar games isn't my cup of tea.
" "You were unlucky, that's all.
" "He who's lucky in cards is unlucky in love." They both looked at each other. There was no hostility in their gaze, only a slight disdain for the hint being dropped. Damian was irritated by the behavior of some people who, considering themselves unbridled paragons, demonstrated with their entire being that they cared nothing but their own problems and worries.
"Perhaps," Damian said coldly, averting his gaze to stare out the window.
The backs of the chairs creaked when even the slightest force was pressed against them. After a moment
of silence, Paweł stood up and announced curtly that he was going to the pantry for a snack. Damian stood up as well and went to the window. He observed the immediate area for some time, dominated by ruins and broken walls, with debris scattered everywhere. The house across the street had been inhabited until a few weeks ago. The intense German bombing in the first days of the war hadn't done enough to pacify the entire village. However, the wounds inflicted on this place would take a long time to heal. At least not until the war was over.
A faint, metallic sound reached his ears. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. Lately, his senses had become heightened to every suspicious sound, every strange situation. He scanned the area as far as the narrow doorframe would allow. However, he saw nothing that could be making the ambiguous sound. He shuddered at the thought of what it could be. Instinctively, he reached for the Desert Eagle tucked into his pants. He thought what he was doing was foolish and suspected he wouldn't have to use it, but he preferred to be prepared if he had to fight. A dozen or so days ago, they had secretly observed the march of Polish troops along the main road. A dozen or so tanks and perhaps three artillery pieces pulled by large trucks passed by. Behind the heavy equipment marched several infantry regiments. Perhaps the troops were retreating east, where they could still join the main army and fight for the freedom that had already been lost. Even then, they weren't safe. They watched the march from hiding, fearing they might be captured even by their own troops and considered spies, just as they had been at the beginning of their adventure.
In the distance, on the road that passed their house, they noticed a black, shimmering shape. The strange sound was probably coming from that direction. As time passed, the shimmering black mass grew larger, and the sounds grew louder. From behind several tall trees growing several dozen meters away, two enormous objects emerged, resembling birds in the gliding phase. They dived and then flew over the roofs of the surrounding houses, emitting sharp sounds that sent shivers down Damian's spine.
Paweł came running from the pantry, holding an apple in one hand and a Deserta in the other. He looked strangely at Damian, who was pressed against the wall and staring out the window.
"What's going on? I heard a plane," Paweł said nervously.
"I don't know, hand me the binoculars. They're on that shelf over there." "Damian said
. "What do you see there?" he asked, handing his friend what he wanted.
"Damn! We're screwed. Do you hear those strange sounds?" Damian couldn't stop the slight shivers that seized him with fear. Paweł nodded. "There's a column of German tanks about two hundred meters away. That one I see there is probably some reconnaissance unit.
" "Fuck..." Paweł refrained from commenting on their situation. "Are you sure it's Germans?
" "I can still tell the Polish coat of arms from a swastika. Damn it, what now? I guess we'll have to go down to that stinking basement."
Paweł remained silent. He wasn't looking in the direction his friend was pointing, but
stared at the unfamiliar place outside the window. He seemed to have no idea what he was seeing.
"What's wrong with you? I know we have to hide again, but..."
"My eyes must be deceiving me," Paweł interrupted, still staring at the road. "What's she doing here?
" "What... Where did she come from?" Damian, too, couldn't believe what he was seeing.
A few meters from their house, in the middle of the road, stood a young girl. She looked
about the same age as them. Her long, brown-gold, wavy hair reached her shoulders, and the sunlight reflected off it made her look like a heavenly being. Her slender figure gave her a graceful appearance despite the clothes she wore. She stepped carefully, as if afraid of stepping on a mine left there by Polish soldiers. Her movements were nervous; she acted as if she were about to run ahead, not looking where, screaming at the top of her lungs. Damian handed the binoculars to his friend and after a moment placed his weapon on the table.
"Damian, I don't know how you counted, but..." he broke off, swallowing demonstratively, "it's not two hundred meters! A hundred at most!" What am I saying? If it's sixty, then..." He looked around the room. Damian was nowhere to be seen. "Hey! Where are you? Damn, fuck!"
What he saw outside completely unnerved him.
A figure ran up to the girl standing in the middle of the road. With a quick movement, he put one hand under her knees and lifted her up, then rested her head on the other. The girl screamed shrilly, trying to free herself from the embrace. In vain. For a long time afterward, Paweł couldn't believe what his friend was doing.
Damian lifted the girl, summoning considerable strength. After the initial shock, the girl stopped screaming. She curled up as tightly as she could in the embrace, covering her face with her hands. Damian took a few steps toward the half-ruined house, then froze. Several dozen meters from the village, German soldiers, led by an armored vehicle, were marching towards them.
His only hope was that they hadn't noticed him yet. To his utter surprise, the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could, still hiding her face. As quickly as he could, he staggered into the building. He pushed his body against the broken door, which made a nasty crack and then shattered into small pieces. They both fell inside. Shards of wood rained down on them, but they didn't hurt them. The girl screamed.
After a short moment, Damian managed to gather his wits and scold himself for his thoughtlessness. He had acted incredibly stupidly. They would be here soon. This would be the end of this trip to the past. He had to find a way out quickly. Now he had to act, or stand there and wait for death. He chose the former.
He calmed himself as best he could. He stood up. The sound of the tank was growing louder. He didn't have much time. He grabbed the girl under the arms, lifted her, and, bypassing the door opposite the entrance, headed toward the supposed guest room. He almost tripped on the rubble strewn all over the room. He stopped behind the wall. There was no way out beyond that; the most he could do was escape through a hole in the roof, but that would require far greater skill than he possessed at the moment. He set the girl against the wall, and he sat down next to her, closer to the entrance they had just rammed together.
They looked at each other. She, with a look of fear on her face, adorned by two recent teardrop marks. Up close, she seemed even more beautiful than before, Damian thought. But what good is that if they're about to kill us? She sniffed and cringed, still looking with her terrified blue eyes at her savior.
"Are you okay?" "Damian asked
. The girl was silent.
"Don't be afraid, it'll be alright." He forced a slight smile.
"Thank you," the teenager said after a moment.
Damian slowly brought his hand to her cheek. The girl quickly reflexively
withdrew her head. But he didn't give up. This time she didn't move. Damian wiped a tear from her cheek and then brushed back her wavy hair. The girl watched him silently. Her heart pounded. Damian felt it too. "Thank you for helping me come to terms with death," Damian thought.
****
Danek, what are you doing, Paweł thought. He pressed himself against the wall right next to the window and leaned out just enough to avoid being noticed by the Germans. He mentally cursed the whole situation and his friend, whose recklessness would drive them all to their graves. But you have to admit, it was a brave move.
The tank, entering the village, had already passed the first buildings. The soldiers marching behind it were carefully scanning the area. One of them, holding something resembling a long tube with a handle, approached each house one by one and, which made Paweł's heart leap to his throat, set them on fire. "Fuck," he commented in one word. "Damian's still in that house. If they come near him, he'll burn along with that girl." His heart pounded. "Think, think," Paweł urged himself. He looked at the table. His friend's Desert lay there. He calculated everything, assessed his chances, and made a decision.
**** "
There's a hole," one of the soldiers thought. "Why do we have to go on patrols to places like this, just like we couldn't guard some district in Wrocław or Poznań? At least there, we'd have a way to call in reinforcements in case of a partisan attack, but here?" Besides, their unit only had five men, two of whom never left the tank. Where's the justice? They always have to assign us to shitty work."
"Heinz!" shouted the soldier with the flamethrower, climbing onto the tank and hitting the hatch. "Stop by that building with the blown-out roof and wait for me to set it on fire.
" "But why the hell?" said a voice from inside the vehicle. "It's obvious no one lives there. There are no partisans here.
" "I'm telling you, I have a feeling." The soldier spat on the ground.
"As you wish," Heinz replied resignedly, stopping the vehicle at the designated spot.
The squad moved far away from the burning building. The soldier approached the
shattered door and looked around the room. He didn't see anything suspicious except the rubble scattered across the floor. "If you're here," he thought, "you're about to find out what it's like to mess with the Reich!"
The sound of shattering glass. He heard the cold, metallic sound of a gunshot. The bullet struck him with unimaginable force. His shoulder, pushed by the bullet, dragged his entire body with it, slamming into the doorframe. No one knew where the fire was coming from. Disoriented soldiers dropped like flies under the impact of the bullets raining down on them.
"There!" shouted a soldier with a flamethrower standing next to the armored vehicle. "The brick house on the other side! Fragmentation!"
The tank's barrel swung dozens of degrees to the right, aiming for the only
building untouched by the Luftwaffe bombardment. Heinz pushed the lever.
****
Damian watched everything from cover. He couldn't do anything without his weapon. He felt helpless. The girl behind him covered her ears with her hands as Paweł began firing. However, when she heard the tank's shot, she couldn't bear it and let out a soft sound like a squeal. Danek shielded the shaking girl with his body, thus protecting her from the small pieces of debris falling through the roof. When he turned, he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Paweł," he whispered.
He could never explain what happened next. The wave of rage that swept over him overwhelmed all his senses. He lost control of his body. Nothing mattered to him anymore; all that remained was revenge. He concentrated his anger in a single point. He struck immediately.
The soldier standing by the door proudly raised his flamethrower. The powerful force struck him in the shoulder, unleashing a dull sound of splintering wood. Damian dropped the broken beam and then lunged at the struggling German. Although Danek was several centimeters shorter and significantly lighter than his opponent, he quickly exploited his advantage: the German's bullet-riddled shoulder. Pushed by the teenager, the German slammed into the tank, intensifying the pain from the wound. However, this wasn't the end of his suffering. Damian continued his attack. He grabbed his enemy by the steel helmet and, with powerful movements, slammed him against the armored vehicle. The metallic sound of the steel impacts brought him great satisfaction. Rage boiled within him, unable to find release. After only a few blows, the soldier lost consciousness and fell limply to the ground next to the tracks. Danek, still unable to shake off his hatred, slammed his boot into the fallen enemy several times. He charged at the German's face one last time. As he made his final attack, he heard the sound of bones breaking.
The tank's barrel swung this time toward the house, from where he had launched himself at the German. Danek wasn't thinking; it felt like someone else was controlling his body. He quickly grabbed the flamethrower lying by the track and, with a steady movement, inserted it as far as he could into the barrel. He fired. At first, he thought the flame would bounce off the bolt and burn his hand, but later he realized he was incredibly lucky. At the same time, the tank's chamber had probably opened to load a round, as a wave of burning fuel hit the tankers.
After a few seconds, the hatch opened, and two burning Germans jumped out. They fell from the cab, hitting the tank's steel ends, and collapsed to the ground, screaming and thrashing in all directions. They died a moment later. Damian gazed at the graveyard that had formed there. It was obvious that what he had just done would change his entire life, from the fact that the Germans had killed his friend to the fact that he had killed so many people.
He ran to the girl, who was crouched against the wall, staring fearfully at the approaching murderer. As he approached her, she backed away from him as much as the confined space would allow.
"They... are already dead," he said bitterly, his voice slightly altered. "Come..."
He didn't finish, as another boom echoed through the air. They both fell to the floor
from the volume of the sound. The air vibrated. They heard the sound of treads being set in motion again. Oh no, Damian thought, not this! I won't fight this time! I don't care anymore.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another vehicle approaching the German tank. This time, however, he heard no German chatter, but something else, something he couldn't even identify as language. It was a tall, muscular soldier speaking, who suddenly jumped out of the tank and approached the dead Germans. Damian thought he'd been hearing this series of inarticulate sounds for several dozen seconds. Another soldier emerged from the same tank. This one, however, was slightly shorter, though just as muscular as the previous one.
"Stop it, Niggah. Enough of these insults in Swedish. You could at least try something national for once," the shorter one said in Polish, the other shrugged.
"Okay. Fuck, how I hate those lousy sperm-chlips who lick Hitler's ass because he's fucking feeding their children.
" "Eh. Did you see how I hit it?? Ha! Right in the middle of their fucking tank.
" "Well, I have to give you that, you're acting like a woman, but you know how to aim." "The tall one patted the other on the shoulder.
"The black guy spoke up!"
After a moment of silence, during which the soldiers surveyed the battlefield and assessed the situation,
they gathered again by the tank.
"I guess someone beat us to it, because there was no one in the tank. Anyway, it doesn't matter. We have to run, because if they're scouts, we might encounter a German column," the tall one said
. "I heard on the radio that the Great City of Brzeszcze is still defending itself not far from here. What do you think?
" "Fuck! Let's go kick some German asses!
" "Bye!"
After this exchange, the two of them jumped into the tank and drove away from
the battlefield. The sound of the tracks was still audible in the silence that followed the departure of the Polish soldiers. Damian thought nothing could surprise him anymore. He thought the limit of miracles for the day had been reached. He was wrong again.
"Come on, let's go," he said to the girl, holding her hand and pulling her toward the exit. She didn't resist him.
He cautiously leaned out and checked for any remnants of the
German unit. But he saw nothing. Avoiding the wrecked tank, he quickly ran to the other side of the road and pressed himself against the wall. He looked around again. This time he ran directly to the collapsed house. He stepped carefully and tried not to stand on the rubble, though that was impossible. The girl stood still and watched the teenager.
"Paweł!" he shouted. "Speak!"
Silence. He heard a brick fall from the roof and land on the rubble
next to him. The girl threw away stone after stone, trying to help Damian. He looked at her with bitterness in his heart. "You won't find anything there, woman," he thought.
"Paweł!" he repeated the call several more times.
Still, silence answered him. He had lost all hope. He stopped throwing away
Fragments of rubble. He sat down against a still-standing wall, wiped his face with his hand, and began staring at something. His mind filled with various thoughts, from imagining his friend's death to his own death, which he now wished to commit. He had nothing to lose. The gun lay next to the dead Germans. He could have ended this quickly, but he didn't.
The girl continued to throw away fragments of rubble. After a few moments, she called Damian over. He did so reluctantly and with frustration. He was speechless. Not from a lack of words, but from an overabundance of them, which suddenly wanted to be uttered. Beneath the layer of rubble lay a wooden door. But beneath it was an empty space. A figure lay there too. Damian's heart skipped a beat. He quickly threw aside fragments of brick and all the rubble that covered the figure. Finally, he strained with all his strength and swung open the door, which was the only protection for the teenager lying on the ground.
"Paweł, are you alive??!!?" "Danek inquired, hoping it wasn't too late. He shook his friend gently, insistently demanding an answer. The fallen figure slowly opened its eyes. A faint smile appeared on its face.
"Danek... thanks," Paweł said slowly. "Now we're even."
Damian couldn't believe it.
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