Star Crossed Enemies

Chapter 2

Hazel Rosenzweig held on to the wood logs in her hands tightly. The splintering of one was digging into her ribs, making her cringe. She stayed crouched in the shadows behind thick brush as she watched a dark figure take a rifle and pistol from the motionless victim. The mysterious figure ran away, disappearing into the night. 

Hazel waited for a few moments before cautiously putting down the logs and tiptoed in the soft snow. She stopped in her tracks when she saw what the victim was wearing, a Nazi uniform. She stood rooted to the spot from terror overwhelming her. Hazel turned around to run away when something stopped her. She put her hand over her shirt, feeling the small metal Star of David that hid underneath the layers. Hazel patted it softly and turned back around with a shaky breath. 

Hazel ran to the soldier and knelt by his side, pushing her long dark curls out of her face. She nervously looked up and down the street, not seeing any movement except for the relentless wind pushing the landscape. She looked down at the Nazi, stooping down slowly with an outstretched hand to shake his shoulder. Hazel apprehensively watched for any movement, ready to flee. After watching him for a few moments, fighting the fear boiling inside her, she checked his pulse and found he was still alive. Hazel nervously bit her lip and looked down at his face again. 

He is a person, just like me. If I were shot, I would want help from anyone. He will die if I don't do anything. And, if they find his body, they will find where we are hiding.

Hazel looked down at the unconscious soldier, still trying to decipher the mixture of emotions flowing through her. As she looked down at his wound, she remembered the young man shot all those years ago on the streets of Munich. The German surgeon she worked for had saved his life. All the lessons he taught her and all the surgeries she assisted with came back to her as if it were yesterday. 

She put her arms under the soldier and pulled him off the road. He was much bigger than her five foot six stance, making it difficult for her to drag his limp body. Hazel pulled him behind a group of trees and bushes before gently laying him down. She turned and looked at the road as she regained her breath. 

There were blood spots and a broad path where she dragged him from the center of the street. His hat laid on its side next to the puddle of red blood sinking to the ground below. She walked back to the road and quickly covered the bloody deep path with fresh snow. She grabbed his hat with a shaky hand before jogging back to where the soldier was lying. Hazel glanced up at the quiet cottages in front of her.

One of them held the dwelling she now called home since 1939, ever since she fled from Germany with her family. She could have lived free for a few years in Denmark. But she was too afraid, as was her family, after what they experienced in Germany. Their suspicions were confirmed just a few short months ago. Mass deportation began when the Denmark government dissolved into the Nazi Regime. Instead of attempting to flee again, they continued their lives hiding in the cottages she was now standing in front of covered by the dense trees.

Hazel bent down and put her arms under the Nazi's shoulders. She heaved him toward the cottage, carefully watching for him to stir. She was still fighting the feeling that she needed to flee at the sight of his uniform. She glanced over to the other two cottages, not seeing any movement from her family and friends hiding inside them. 

Hazel pulled the soldier to the door of her cottage and dragged him inside.

"Hazel, is that you?" asked Helen from in the kitchen.

Hazel shut the front door quickly. "Yes. Get me the surgical supplies, including that bottle of ether."

"What on earth do you need that for?" asked Helen, walking out to the living room.

Helen was drying a dish in her plump hands as she rounded the corner. Her green eyes shot up in surprise as they looked down at the Nazi on the floor. The piercing sound of the dish breaking on the tile floor made Hazel almost drop him in fright.

"Wh-" started Helen, wide-eyed.

"I saw this man shot down when I went out to get more firewood."

"You know what he is, don't you?"

"Yes," said Hazel with a sigh.

"He's a Nazi!"

"Get me the surgical supplies. He needs medical attention."

"I rather see him die," said Helen bitterly.

"Go find the surgical supplies!"

Helen jumped in surprise by Hazel's sudden fierce voice and walked briskly to the back room. Hazel walked into the kitchen and pulled the wooden table to the center of the room before dragging his limp body next to it. Helen placed the heavy surgical bag on the counter mumbling to herself. 

"Help me put him on the table."

Helen gave Hazel a look before grabbing his legs. They heaved him on the table, grunting from the dead weight. Helen roughly threw his legs down on the hard surface in obvious distaste. 

"Put all the instruments under scalding water," instructed Hazel.

Helen did as Hazel said, then placed them next to the medical bag on the counter. Hazel took off all the layers of clothing on his torso with shaky hands. She pulled off the Knight's Cross and placed it on the pile of clothes now on the floor. 

"This is going to take a while," muttered Hazel as she examined the wounds. She grabbed a few tools and worked to pull the first bullet embedded in him. 

Hazel worked briskly to recover the bullets and stop the bleeding. She quietly asked Helen for supplies without looking away from her work. She found herself immersed in each wound and avoiding the thought of what she was actually doing. Saving a Nazi's life. She didn't know how much time had passed, but her legs were starting to shake from exhaustion and not fear. Hazel found herself relieved and anxious as she stitched the last open wound. 

Hazel and Helen stood back, staring at the Nazi laying on their kitchen table. 

"What are we going to do with him now?" asked Helen.

"We'll put him in my bed. I can sleep in another room."

"You want him in your bed?!"

Hazel nodded apprehensively. 

"I wouldn't have his murderous body on the bed I slept in every night," said Helen in a huff.

"Help me move him."

Helen sighed and gave Hazel an exasperated look. Her dirty blonde that was usually in neat waves around her face looked disheveled. Her fists were pressed into her rounded frame as she continued to stare at Hazel with sharp green eyes. Hazel couldn't help but feel guilty. She owed everything to this woman. She was a diversion against the Nazis if they ever came by the house, coming from non-Jewish German lines and the picture of Aryan perfection. No one would question her if they did come knocking door to door looking for something. And now Hazel had a Nazi in their home.

Helen finally took his feet after a moment of exchanged silence. They carried him slowly to the back of the cottage towards Hazel's room. Hazel heart jumped with fright when his head moved on her arm and rested there as she laid him on the bed. She slipped her arm away as she stepped back, observing him for any movement. He continued to lay silently in a deep slumber.

Hazel looked at his boots and started to work to untie them. Her body was shaking as she looked down at the black shine. Visions of Nazis marching down the streets of Munich came back to her in a rush. 

Why am I doing this? What if he reveals our identity? What if he kills me in my sleep? What if.... 

Hazel took a deep breath as she calmed her mind from the pressing questions and terror. She carefully pulled the boots off and set them to the side of the bed. She didn't need to panic now. She knew she did the right thing by saving a man's life, no matter what uniform he wore. Hazel took his hat and placed it on the nightstand next to the Knight's Cross. Helen walked out of the room, shaking her head as she mumbled under her breath. Hazel took one last look at him sleeping peacefully before closing the door quietly behind her.