The Wall

 A wall stands steadfast between us dividing the city in two. He’s on the west and me on the east. My city is at a state of emergency because emigrations are rampant away from home – East Berlin. I do not understand why people want to flee. Maybe it’s just me who thinks life is good the way it is unlike the rest of Soviet held Berlin. Or maybe I’m happy that I am someone among the mass of people – Grenzpolizei. 

I take a quick short peek at him perched at the other side on four storey building near the wall. He’s unaware that I lurk him from the roof of a three storey house. We’re both soldiers in our own right. The difference is in the choice – he chooses to be one and I’m chosen to be one. He’s proud to be an un-uniformed one and I’m instilled with pride to be a uniformed one. 

I grow more confident of my position as the night falls. Maybe I can get rid of him once and for all. I’ve personally been overlooking his action for almost a year – he’s been evading the eyes, ears and the alarms and traps of the death strip to smuggle East Berliners to the West side of the city – a mortal crime. It was too much of a hassle to catch him in the act and in my mind the punishment was something I had decided to mete out to him myself. I was unsure whether it was my instinct or intent to kill that driving me to madness. 

I lifted my Kalashnikov and took a steady aim. With my finger resting lightly on the trigger, I try to take a steady aim. It’s unnerving how different it is to aim at a shadow of a person on the live range and a real person less than two hundred meters across. The rejuvenating feeling of killing an unsuspecting person who you don’t even know is way past a feeling you can ever get from hitting a willing target on a range. I steady my hands preparing for the moment of truth pressing lightly on the trigger. It moves a fraction of an inch and stops. Anymore, the hammer will fall speeding the bullet to the target. I line up the scope to his head. One shot must result in one kill. No more.  

I feel a piercing pain in my right arm quickly followed by a sharp zipping sound. I let out a muffled shriek as my gun drops instinctively. I see blood all over the floor rushing out of my arm but I don’t feel a thing for a few moments. The rush of adrenaline seizes and a shocking realization sets in. I feel the sharp sizzle of pain in my hand as it aches like a thousand devils screeching inside my head. I let out a muffled scream as I claw the wall with my bare fingers to assume the pain into myself silently. I’m shot by the very person I was trying to shoot. The suppressor – marvel of mankind; a bane to me. I hear the click of the reload as I curl myself in pain and shock.  

I wait for a few minutes which feel like eons before making any move. I lie on the floor as I remove a small packet of crystalline powder – they told me it was a lifesaver, morphine. A single shot in and nothing out got out. All I could see was my bone and a shiny piece of slug in a bloodbath. The bullet still lodged in can poison my blood. So I was taught to remove the bullet out first before putting the magic powder but I was not ready to do it yet. To choose: pain or poison? I choose poison. I’m not ready to face anymore pain for now. I clench my teeth as I nurse my wound with the magic powder and a white bandage which soon turns red. The bleeding momentarily stops as I slump into sleep. 

I wake with a jolt grabbing my weapon with my right hand. I immediately let it go overwhelmed in pain. I try to peep across the wall again. Deadly silence. I quickly duck half expecting something to zip past me again. Nothing. I look at my watch – half past three. Maybe he’s asleep or maybe he’s gone. The realization that surely he can’t be in the building is nothing more than a little more comforting. I feel a strange numbness in my hand as I look at it; it feels as if it were not there to begin with. Maybe it’s the poison playing its part in my blood. I let it be for now. There are more important matters to settle. 

I take off my helmet wearily. Brush my hand against my nearly hairless head. It feels so much more comfortable with short hair when the helmet sits perfectly on it. But I need it for something else. I need to devise a novel use for it. I scout around the roof searching for a twig or branch or anything that’s strong enough to wear my helmet. I wriggle in excruciating pain towards it and retrieve it back to my post. I put my helmet over the stick and spin the helmet a few rounds. Perfect. The stick is strong. I won’t need it for long. Just for a few seconds; as a distortion, a distraction. Something to help me get away from the god-forsaken roof I’ve been stuck and suffering for the past night. 

I don the helmet over the stick with my back pressed hard again the wall. I let out a short painful yelp as I use my right hand to lift up the helmet tip just above the level of the roof. Still nothing. I push my luck a little further by moving it further to the right slowly. I hear a zip as I quickly pull the stick down. He still lurks right where he is because he knows I’m not done yet. I’m not done yet but soon it’ll be over.  

Him or me? I decide it now. I turn around facing the wall. This time I’ve learnt from my mistake. I place the muzzle on the roof wall and play the same game again. My left index finger presses lightly against the trigger till I feel the silent click the hammer is ready to fall again. My right hand moves my prop to the right slowly as ever to ensure he has the best shot with a blindfold. He makes his move and I make mine. A loud band resounds all over the colony as I feel the bullet zip past through my helmet breaking the twig into two. I hear a light slump followed by a muted thud a hundred or so meters away. It’s over. I feel is no sense of achievement in this, no sense of accomplishment. Just a sense of numbness. I lean against the wall and yet another time, doze off – out of pain and weariness. 

Two good hours must have passed because I can see the first rays of sunlight overhead. I wake up with the feeling of an exhilarating pain. At least now I can look for a way to ease the pain, look for the field medic to dress my wound after removing the slug that has been slowly poisoning me through the night. But for some reason, my mind is not at peace. I can’t explain what I did next but I wanted to do it anyway. Maybe it is just a sense of understanding of the inner war inside you get when you see your enemy’s dead face. You realize the eternal truth – he would have killed you if you wouldn’t want to kill him. 

I slowly walk over to the forbidden side of Berlin. As a member of the Grenzpolizei, I am glad I have some exclusive rights to cross over to the other side for the purposes of ‘inspections’. I take my time to get there. There is no need to rush to the body. It’s not going anywhere soon and there is no danger since I have more Grenzpolizei to oversee my safety against some other erratic gunman. I waddle my way in excruciating pain to get there. I don’t seem feel the urge to cure the pain in comparison to the curiosity of my victim. I finally reach the lifeless body of the un-uniformed soldier and give him a ceremonial salute before confiscating his weapon. I crouch down to turn the body over to reveal the face my nemesis of that night.  

I reel back in horror as see my brother’s face.