Nest Among The Stars

The Major - Part 12

Lightly falling snow could be seen through the kitchen window. Papa sat across from Michael at the breakfast table, nervously rubbing his hands together, while Hans spoke words no one listened to. Mama could be heard in the other room quietly offering up prayers to the Virgin.

Outside a couple of birds fluttered about throwing snow into the air as they contested landing space on the window sill. Michael recalled the same scene from the morning before, hundreds of years in the future. Funny they should be so agitated; there was more than enough room for them both. Finally settling down, the birds cuddled together each drawing warmth from the other — an act mutually beneficial to their survival.

Two men had come to the house earlier in the morning. They wore 'feldgrau' colored uniforms with matching metal helmets covering their ears and the back of their necks. Long metal and wood weapons Michael recognized as 'rifles' were slung over their shoulders. When they first arrived, Hans answered the pounding at the door, a pounding Michael slept through. Hans was told to rouse Papa from his bed. Papa was already dressed and half way down the stairs by the time Hans turned to fetch him. The soldiers ordered Papa to get himself ready. The Major was coming to the village to visit him and his 'idiot' son. The men now stood outside the front door awaiting the officers' arrival.

From previous dealings with the villagers, the Major knew Papa held a position of influence with them. Together with other respected and elected men, Papa had agreed to build and defend the wall as instructed by the Major. An unspoken compulsion lay behind the agreement. Papa knew the Major's reputation for cruelty against those who failed to agree. He also knew from the very beginning the inherent foolishness in the plans given him and he had quickly begun to surreptitiously convince his fellows to surrender when the enemy should first approach. It was a wise decision, one reached by the majority of villagers, opposed only by the few who remained fanatically devoted to the 'leader'. The decision to surrender was abandoned with Herman's apparent miracle feeding the villagers' hunger for hope, only to be resurrected by Michael's blunt appraisal of their situation and forewarning of their deaths.

Papa knew what the Major was coming to see him about. He had spent most of the night speaking to the other men, flopping fully clothed onto his bed in the early morning hours exhausted from his efforts to again save them from disaster. Someone had played the Judas and reported his actions to the Major. There was no other reason for his 'visit'. If it was simply to confirm the defensive preparations or to arrange for supplies, the burgemeister would have been sought by the Major, not him. No it wasn't for such things as those, and Papa was afraid, Michael saw it in his eyes. Michael felt Papa's petrifying fear, a fear the Major with haughty arrogance relied upon to hold the man in place even after having announced his imminent arrival.

In a modest village where the sound of an automobile is noticed even when a lack of petrol does not prevent such travel, the distant murmur of the Major's car was heard rising to a hum in the silent morning. The hum held steady for what seemed an eternity, before taking on a distinctively harsher quality — a harshness emphasized by the knowledge it brought closer something unwelcomed.

Papa's agitation increased as everyone listened to the noise of brakes squealing the vehicle to a halt outside. Boot heels clicked smartly together as the car door was opened. Papa's head slumped chin on chest and he seemed ready to collapse. Dispassionately, Michael found his thoughts were only oriented to curiosity. It was as if a mechanism inside him had turned on, drawing out years of training, permitting him to deal with the type of person the Major promised to be.

There was no knocking at the front door politely requesting admittance to the family's home, only a loud bang as it slammed shut following the intruder's entry. The men remained in their chairs listening as thick hob nailed boots ruined the polished wood hallway floor. One of the soldiers from earlier in the morning appeared at the kitchen entrance, immediately moving to the side, his back rigid to the wall, rifle diagonally in hand across his chest. A tall austere man in a crisp gray uniform immediately followed, with a second soldier in train who then precisely mirrored against the opposite wall the stance of the first.