A second to last hurrah

‘I've told you, Annie, I'm fine. It's okay’
‘Please let me take care of it, you're bleeding. I'm so sorry’
‘Annie, it's not your fault. It's fine, I promise’
‘It was my damn elbow. Here, let me help’
‘You were having nightmares again, it's fine. I've had a nosebleed before. I can handle it’
‘And I want to help you anyway. Away with your hand’

He sighed and let Annie help him out with the bleeding nose. She carefully cleaned up the dried up blood while having a firm grip on Locus Kisselbach. He didn't actually know what that was, but Annie insisted pressure in this area would stop the bleeding. After all, 90% of all nosebleeds originated in this area, she said.

The bathroom floor tiles were cold as the winter, and the warm bed was alluring, but none of them felt like going to bed at this point. Not now.

‘What's happening, Annie?’
‘Just a few bad dreams. And I'm sorry about the nose. Really’
‘Shh. The nose will be fine. Been through worse, remember?’
‘Sure, but we don't do that anymore. We have a little shop, something that we both love doing, a daughter-’
‘A beautiful daughter’
‘A beautiful daughter who goes to school, and hell we've been married for how long now?’
‘You know exactly how long’
‘Mhm…’

With some quick maths Annie could count exactly the amount of days. Then she got back on track.

‘Point is, we don't do that anymore. We're supposed to look after each other now!’
‘Yeah, exactly. Look after each other. Which is why a bloodied nose isn't making me feel half as unwell as listening to you going through those dreams’

They sat quiet together some minutes

‘I don't get it’, Annie began. ‘I've never been bothered about the war before. Well, sure a dream here and there. But not like this. It has never been that bad’
‘Checked the forum?’
‘Yeah…’

Annie buried her face deeper into her hands

‘It’s a very common thing. But not the resurging ones like this. And the few threads that does touch on this are all triggered by some traumatic event or another’
‘And you’ve had none?’
‘No, honey. Nothing out of our ordinary routine. Tending to the shop, helping Anna-Linnéa with what she needs, reading, fixing stuff at home… You’re with me most of the time!’
‘Yeah…’
‘Honey, don’t even try make yourself responsible for this. Something is happening in my head. You’re not to blame, I know that much’
‘Maybe I’m not responsible for the cause, but I am responsible for finding a way to help you’

Annie smiled that warm and loving smile she did sometimes. It even made him smile a bit

‘What's in them, Annie?’
‘The nightmares?’
‘Yes’
‘Those who were lost on the road’

He knew what “Lost on the road” meant. The road being the one from Moscow to Berlin.

‘Friends or foes?’
‘Both. All by my hand’

If anyone had listened, they would be worried by the friends that had fallen to Annie's own hands. Was she a traitor? On the contrary He knew she worked as a nurse, and was pushed into the role of a doctor and a surgeon when nothing else was available. No matter how good she was, many was beyond help and took their last breaths while Annie desperately tried to stop the bleeding, or push their guts back in. She had managed to repress those images for half a century and some.

But now it was coming back. For some reason it was coming back.

Some phone calls were made the following morning. To some who might have a clue. As it turned out, most of that was wasted time. It wasn't until they called Yvonne that some progress was made.

The couple had first made Yvonne's acquaintance a decade ago, when Annie had her throw of hubris and had to be taken to the all-mother in Switzerland. But through dedication and herculean efforts, Annie's life had been saved, and a seed was planted.

A little seed who was about to start her third year of school.

~ ~ ~

A few days later, Annie sat in the sun at a little café and smiled at the mere thought of her daughter doing so well in school. A smile and a daydream that was rudely, but elegantly interrupted by the arrival of old, big car. One of those big French ones, shining with silver paint, chrome bumpers and polished windows. Peugeot? Or maybe the other one. C-something.

The old car slowed to a halt right across from the café, nonchalantly ignoring any all parking that may or may not be in effect there, in true French fashion.

And speaking of French fashion, Yvonne looked predictably very sharp. Annie had never seen her wearing ugly or ill fitting clothes. What was even more odd was that anyone, especially with as sun kissed skin as Yvonne had, could pull off a black pleated skirt, white shirt with a plum colored sailors jacket. Especially for someone looking like she's 40

‘You're making me look bad’
‘It's not much effort in that’

They both smirked a little. Annie offered Yvonne a seat, which she accepted, and predictably, lit a cigarette.

Yvonne lowered her large sunglasses and looked over Annie with an analyzing gaze.

‘Do something about the black under your eyes. You look at least five years older’
‘Someone's had barbed wire for breakfast’
‘No no, Mon ami, I simply enjoy someone who bites back’

Yvonne puffs out a cloud of smoke.

‘You bring me the most curious cases, you know?’

Annie smirked a little. The last few years Yvonne had helped her with a few curious cases of Geists getting to know what they are, the first taking them through three continents, almost a hundred years and a sunken German warship.

‘You wouldn't like me any other way’
‘Shush now. So, what do you have for me today?’
‘Me. I'm the troubled soul today’

Yvonne put the little cigarette butt in the ashtray.

‘Are you okay, Annie?’
‘I've had dreadful nightmares for the last month, horrors of war returning to me’
‘It started just now? Hasn't bothered you before?’
‘Not really. I've been fortunate’
‘Any event that could have caused this?’
‘No, nothing. Same routine I've had for years now’
‘How odd…’

Yvonne furrowed her brow

‘Something must have started it…’
‘I dunno…’
‘Any PTRS in the shop?’
‘Yeah, one. Just a simple trigger job, a broken spring. She was bright and happy after thirty minutes of work. I strongly doubt that started anything’
‘Hrm… I seem to remember you went though the war on your feet’
‘Mostly, yes’
‘And you used which weapons?’
‘First a revolver. A Smith & Wesson Model 3. I had that for almost two years. I met Dasja in Rzjev and had her until the village where she became Dasjenka, and then onto Seelow heights. I lost her there. From there, a PPS, a Mauser, an SVT-40 and an MG 34 who was-’

Annie looked over to the table next to her, seeing there were minors at it. She cleared her throat.

‘And an MG34’
‘If you feel a way for the MG who isn't describable to minors, I'd say that is some bond, but remind me, Rzjev is north of Moscow, is it not?’
‘Yeah. Northwest’
‘And you had one to take you from north of of Moscow to the gates of Berlin?’
‘She was there all the way’

Yvonne lights another cigarette, silver plated zippo shining in the sun

‘You saw someone in your shop that reminded you of her’

Annie sighed.

‘I've seen lots like her. Not a beauty, but not ugly at all. Homely. There are lots like that’
‘What are you not telling me?’
‘An incident… the village. Dasja suffered from bad luck and a mistake I made. She lost her arms and was Dasjenka from that day on. I… Was harsh with her. Said what her duty was. Lied about what I was’
‘That would be it. Someone reminded you of her, and you're back with guilt. Where were you when she was lost?’
‘Does it matter? The mother has to have her now. Hell, she could be anywhere at this point. Hundreds of millions of guns made since Seelow, she could have ended up anywhere’

Yvonne puffed out more grey smoke.

‘Maybe not. If you were deep in a forest, Mother might not. She didn't know last time, did she?’

Annie was quiet for a second.

‘She didn't know… and as you say, it was heavy with forest. I could barely see the sun’
‘Dasjenka was taken by the forest’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The forest is filled with spirits and creatures rarely seen and never photographed. There is a thousand tales and a ten thousand mysteries about it. Someone must tend to the forest, you know?’
‘...’
‘What, Mon ami?’
‘You’re starting to sound like the tales I heard long, long ago’
‘How does a tale come to be, I wonder?’

Annie shrugs and holds her hand out

‘What do you mean here? This was folklore!’
‘Much of it is just stories, sure. But if you want to find Dasjenka, I imagine you have to find the grain of truth to those stories. I can hear with mother, but i very much doubt she has her. I’d start packing a bag’
‘Do I look like Lara Croft to you?’

Yvonne smirked

‘You even serious right now? How am I supposed to search through half all forests in Europe?’
‘I think Dasjenka is your best bet for having a good night's sleep’
‘Rzjev to Seelow is a thousand miles. Tens of thousands of square miles of forest, and I’m not even sure what i look for. You have to give me something'
'Didn’t i already? There is creatures that tend to the forest. The speak to each other, and so do their friends, parents, lovers and children’
‘Yvonne…’
‘Oh such a bore you are, did your mother never read you bedtime stories?’
‘Mother…?’

Yvonne stood up from the table, dropped a 20 dollar bill and cleared her throat

‘Hanau, Germany. Get a motorbike, a good one. And a cell phone. Call me when you’re there’