Whatever It Takes

Our chapter of the month comes from my forthcomng novel, Reborn (written as C. B. Hennefer). During the wartime occupation of Norway, the Nazis encounter something far darker than their evil regime.

 

Magnus was born the unwanted product of a brief liaison between a milk maid and the landowner’s son. The landowner sent his son, Magnus’s father, away to university, and told Magnus’s mother she had a week to get off his land before he had her arrested as a vagrant.

It was a hard childhood, he knew nothing but poverty and hunger; but his mother’s love kept him warm through the cold winters, and brought him sunshine and laughter in the brief, northern summers. Nonetheless, the daily struggle to survive took its toll, and the woman who had given everything for him died when he was just fourteen. Penniless and destitute, he drifted alone for years, until he arrived at the Pederson farm in the winter of 1938.

“If you were a dog, I would shoot you,” said Pederson, “it would be the kindest thing. You are sick and starving, I do not rate your chances, but my daughter, Kari, has some skill with medicine, if any can save you, it is her.”

He was never sure if it was the food, the medicine, or simply Kari’s love, that saved him, but by the beginning of summer, she had nursed him back to health. He repaid the family’s kindness by working on the farm for nothing more than room and board. He worked hard, but those were some of the happiest days of his life.

The seasons turned, other farm workers came and went, Pederson began to appreciate Magnus’s loyalty, making him his deputy. Meanwhile, Magnus and Kari grew closer with each passing day. By Christmas 1939, they were in love, he proposed on New Year’s Day, and they set the date for the first Saturday in April.

It was a wonderful, festive occasion, with dozens of the extended Pederson family in attendance, plus friends from all the neighbouring farms. Magnus and Kari danced until dawn. The following afternoon they were due to leave for Oslo, but the news on the radio was dire: the Germans were coming, Norway’s peaceful neutrality was at an end.

Regretfully, they decided it would be wise to postpone their honeymoon: but the newlyweds still found time to celebrate in their own way.

Life on the farm didn’t change much to begin with. It was difficult to get supplies from outside, but they were quite self-sufficient, only needing to trade elk meat and duck eggs for diesel and machine parts every now and then.

In September, they discovered Kari was pregnant. They celebrated long into the night, with dancing and singing; Magnus and Pederson demolished a bottle of aquavit between them.

The following spring, the twins arrived, healthy bouncing babies with strong lungs. They named one Lena, after Kari’s mother, who had died in the winter of 1935, and the other Astrid, after Magnus’s mother.

Despite the war raging around them, the summer of 1941 was an idyllic time for the little family, Magnus did not believe it would be possible to be any happier. But, their oasis of peace could not last forever. In November, war came to the Pederson farm.

*

They seemed to appear from nowhere in the middle of the night, banging at the front door, waking the twins. The children started to wail, bawling with all their might, as if they knew the sudden intrusion heralded the end of the family’s happiness.

Pederson staggered to the door, Magnus following close behind. “Keep out of sight,” he hissed to Kari.

The farmer opened the door and stared at the men gathered outside.

“Good evening, comrade,” the group’s leader smiled, “we have wonderful news. You are to be given the opportunity to serve your country.”

“What do you mean?” snarled Pederson.

“It is cold out here, comrade, will you not invite us in to share a drink,” the leader snapped his fingers and the men behind held up some bottles; “we brought our own, but we are in need of your fire.”

“Er, ja, er… come in, of course,” Pederson opened the door to allow the strangers in, observing the traditions of hospitality his family had followed for generations.

“Tusen takk,” the leader nodded, marching into the living room and sitting himself in Pederson’s favourite armchair, next to the fire. The rest of the group followed, Magnus counted nine in all. Each of them had a rifle: most, like the leader, had pistols or knives as well.

“Are we to drink from the bottle, or do you have glasses?” demanded the stranger.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Pederson nodded.

“I will fetch them,” said Magnus, hurrying out, towards the kitchen.

“What is happening?” hissed Kari from the top of the stairs.

“I do not know,” Magnus whispered, “but keep out of sight for now, I will call for you if I think it is safe.”

One of the twins started crying again. Kari shrugged, “I do not think you will keep us hidden for long, my love.” Then she rushed off, towards the nursery.

Magnus collected the glasses and returned to the living room. When the vessels were filled, the leader of the group raised his glass in a toast, “Norge.”

“Norge,” echoed everyone, draining their drinks in a single gulp. Magnus set about refilling the glasses.

“So, I should introduce myself,” said the leader. “Jan Dokken, Commander, Buskerud Soviet Revolutionary Resistance Force, at your service,” he nodded.

“Er, I am Fredrik Pederson, and this is my son-in-law, Magnus.”

“We know who you are,” Dokken smiled; “the question is, can we rely on your support?”

“Our support for what?”

“In the summer, we can hide in the mountains, evade the fascists with ease, it is not difficult. But now the winter is upon us, we need a base of operations: your farm is remote, yet well-resourced and provisioned, it is ideal for our purposes.”

“You want my farm?”

“When the fascists are crushed and a new order established, there will be no possessions, the archaic notion of land ownership will fade into history, an episode in madness soon to be forgotten, but, as a loyal patriot, your custody of the farm will, of course, be respected, comrade.”

“I do not understand,” said Pederson.

“He means, if we help them, you will keep the farm,” Magnus advised.

“Just so, the boy is right,” Dokken nodded.

“But what do you want?” demanded Pederson.

“As I have said, we need a base for the winter; we will try to disturb you and your family as little as possible. How many bedrooms do you have?”

“Er, we have four, er, five if you count the nursery.”

“Good, so you will be using one yourself, one for Magnus and your daughter, Kari, and, of course, the twins are in the nursery. You see, we know all about you,” Dokken smiled.

“If you know so much, why did you need to ask how many bedrooms we have?”

“A courtesy,” Dokken nodded; “in any case, you have two spare rooms. I will take one, three of my men will billet in the other, the rest will sleep down here. You will provide us breakfast each day, some cold meat or cheese to take with us for lunch, and supper when we return at night. Otherwise, we will leave you in peace.”

“What you ask is impossible,” Pederson protested, “to feed nine men, three meals a day, it is more than we can sustain, it is too much.”

“Every day, we risk our lives to serve the nation. All we ask is that you provide us food and shelter; I do not think that is too much to ask of a loyal patriot, Herr Pederson.”

“But, but…” Pederson’s face was glowing red, the anger rising inside him. Magnus grasped his arm in an effort to calm his father-in-law, while he answered for him, “You are right, Commander Dokken, it is not too much to ask, we will of course provide all you need.”

“Good,” Dokken smiled, “now ask your pretty young wife to come down and join us, we would all enjoy some female company.”

*

Despite Magnus’s misgivings, the partisans were content with a little conversation and a few dances with Kari… that first night at least. But he knew these were desperate men, fighting to survive in desperate times, he feared it would not be long before they demanded more.

Nonetheless, the early months passed without incident: although the men ate their way through the family’s stores at an alarming rate. By the beginning of February, there was little left in the larder, and Magnus could see they would soon reach a crisis point. Yet, when it came, it was not a lack of food that brought disaster down upon them.

“Since we came here, I have lost four men and gained only one new recruit,” announced Dokken.

“And what is this to me?” replied Pederson.

“We are down to six men, we need seven for our next mission; your son-in-law will come with us,” he pointed at Magnus.

“No, no,” Kari fell to her knees in front of the resistance leader, “you cannot take him from me, he is my husband, he is the father of my children.”

“Be quiet, woman,” Dokken pushed her away, sending her sprawling across the floor, “most of us are husbands and fathers, it does not stop us doing our duty, the boy will come with us.”

“Do not fret, my love,” Magnus helped Kari back to her feet, “I will go with them, I want to do my duty… but I will return to you and the twins, I promise.”

She stared into his eyes, “How can you promise what is not under your control?”

“I will return, my love, whatever it takes, I promise you.”

*

The raid went badly, three of the partisans were killed, Magnus and two others were taken prisoner, only Dokken escaped.

The gestapo tortured Magnus for three days, demanding to know where the group’s base was. He told them nothing, but when they hauled him in front of a firing squad on the fourth morning, he knew for certain one of the others had betrayed them. Staring at the gun barrels pointed towards him, his only thoughts were for Kari and the twins. He prayed they would be spared.

“Feuer,” shouted the sergeant and the guns spoke. Magnus felt the bullets rip through his flesh. The strength went from his body and he collapsed, staring into the dead eyes of the man next to him, blood streaming from his wounds onto the snow-covered ground.

The gestapo officer walked towards him, pistol raised, pointed at his head. Suddenly, the officer turned at the sound of screaming coming from behind him. Magnus watched in disbelief as a group of dark figures fell upon the German soldiers. One of the figures turned, his face coated in blood, and leaped at the officer, sinking long, sharp fangs into the gestapo man’s neck. Dropping the limp, empty body on the ground, the assailant turned to Magnus, “You are badly wounded. Do you want to die as you are, or live as one of us?”

“Wh-wh-what are you?”

“We are vampyr.”

Magnus remembered his promise to Kari, ‘I will return, my love, whatever it takes.’ He looked up at his saviour, “I want to live.”

*

It had taken five days’ march over the mountains to reach the German base. Magnus ran back in six hours, arriving at dusk. He saw the flames from over five kilometres away. As he approached, he could see a flaming cross in front of the burning house. Next to it, more than a dozen German soldiers were standing, laughing, as one of their comrades knelt on the ground, between a woman’s legs, his bare arse thrusting backwards and forwards.

Magnus hissed in fury, leaping at the soldiers, snapping their necks, ripping open their throats, knocking some of them to the ground, where they lay unconscious. Grabbing the kneeling man by the back of the neck, he picked him up like a scarecrow, and threw him into the fire at the base of the cross. Then, kneeling in his place, he stared down at the man’s victim, and began to weep.

Kari lay on her back, her lifeless eyes staring at the sky, her torn clothes in tatters, blood staining the snow between her legs.

Glancing up, Magnus realised Pederson was tied to the burning cross, his features contorted in agony. Turning his attention back to Kari, he pulled off his coat and lay it across her, then reached up to close her eyes. He noticed there was something clasped in her hand, a scrap of paper. Gently prising her fingers open, he took the note and opened it up.

For a moment, he stared at the two words scrawled on the paper, written in blood. Dropping the paper, he jumped to his feet, and started to run.