The Anschluss fog L u c a s D u r a n D The Anschluss fog The boots came first, their rhythmic thud reverberating down every street of Vienna. Lucas Durand Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The Anschluss fog The Anschluss fog Lucas Durand Lucas Durand An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The Anschluss fog T he boots came first, their rhythmic thud re- verberating down every street of Vienna. The sound was like the drumbeat of an approach- ing storm, and Erik Steinmann could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to choke on. He stood in the half-darkness of his living room, his hands unsteady as he adjusted the curtains. The world outside had transformed into something unrecognizable. The Nazi flag, black, red, and white, fluttered above the Rathaus, its colours too bright, too mocking against the gray sky. “Don’t let them see us,” Martha’s voice came, strained with a fear Erik hadn’t heard in years. She was already moving, darting across the room like a shadow, tossing small items into a bag with quick, sharp motions. Her face was pale; her lips pressed tight, but her eyes... her eyes burned with determi- nation. Lucas Durand Erik didn’t respond, only nodded, turning away to glance at the window again. Outside, the streets were chaos. Men in dark uniforms shouted orders, their boots clicking against the cobblestones. The trucks rolled through the city in long, rumbling lines, en- gines growling like predators on the hunt. “They’re coming closer,” Erik muttered, his throat dry. He could hear their voices now, raised in anger, barking commands. The officers were on the hunt. Looking for Jews, looking for Josel and Lotte. His best friend, Josel, had been a step ahead for as long as Erik could remember. But now, with the An- schluss officially declared, it felt like they had run out of time. “We can’t keep them hidden much longer,” Erik said quietly, not to Martha, but to himself. The familiar weight of responsibility pressed down on him, thick as a fog. He could feel the cold sweat on his back. Martha paused in the kitchen, her hand trembling slightly as she stuffed another piece of cloth into the bag. “How much time do we have?” Her voice cracked, the question hanging between them like a death sentence. “Not much,” Erik replied grimly. His gaze flicked The Anschluss fog to the back door, then to the small window near the ceiling where he could just make out the shadowy figures of soldiers crossing the street. There were more of them now, spreading throughout the neigh- bourhood, looking for anyone who dared oppose the coming storm. Josel’s words from weeks ago echoed in Erik’s mind: “Get us to Switzerland, Erik. It’s the only way.” He’d said it like a promise, but Erik knew there was no guarantee. They were too exposed. The city was crawling with Nazis, and the borders would be crawl- ing with soldiers. The sound of a truck’s engine cut through Erik’s thoughts, a deep rumble that vibrated through the floor. It was a sound they’d been hearing more often these past few days, but now it carried with it an om- inous weight. The engines were getting closer. Erik’s pulse quickened, his hand instinctively reaching for the pistol hidden under his coat. His mind raced, should he take the chance and try to slip out with Josel and Lotte now, while there was still a chance? Or would the soldiers catch them first, trap them like rats in a corner? The doorbell rang, sharp and insistent, pulling Erik Lucas Durand out of his thoughts. He froze, eyes wide, his heart stuttering in his chest. Martha’s voice, a mere whisper, came from the kitchen. “It’s them.” “I know.” Erik’s voice was low, barely a whisper, as if speaking louder might alert someone who was al- ready listening too closely. He looked at Martha, his gaze sharp. “Get them in the cellar. Now. I’ll handle this.” “Erik...” Martha’s voice wavered with panic, but she didn’t argue. She grabbed the small, bundled-up bag and hurried toward the door leading to the cellar. Jo- sel and Lotte, pale and wide-eyed, stood motionless behind her. The doorbell rang again, louder this time, like the sound of doom. Erik drew a deep breath and went to the door. His hand hovered for a moment over the brass handle, the sweat cold against his palm. Then, with a final steadying breath, he pulled the door open. Two SS officers stood on the threshold, their dark uniforms a stark contrast against the dull light of the hallway. The taller one, with a thin scar running The Anschluss fog down his cheek, scanned Erik with cold, calculating eyes. “Guten Tag,” the officer said, his voice unnervingly polite, the kind of voice that sent a chill down Erik’s spine. “We are conducting a search in this area. We’ve received reports of... undesirable activity.” Erik stiffened, his hand still on the door handle. Don’t panic, don’t let them see you sweat, he told him- self. “Of course, Herr Obersturmführer. My house is at your disposal.” The officer’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Erik could see the calculation behind them. They weren’t just here to check the house, they were here for something more. The other officer, a shorter man with thick glasses, glanced toward the back of the house, his eyes lingering for just a moment too long. “We’ll take a look around,” the first officer said, stepping forward, his hand brushing against the edge of Erik’s coat as he passed. Erik stepped back, allowing the officers inside. “Right this way,” he said, his voice tight. Keep calm, he told himself again, but the words seemed hollow in the growing silence. Lucas Durand As the first officer moved toward the living room, the second officer remained by the door, watching Erik with sharp, suspicious eyes. The tension be- tween them was palpable. Erik swallowed, his mind racing. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to act, but he couldn’t make a mistake. Not yet. Not with everything riding on this. Suddenly, the rumbling of another truck echoed from the street outside, louder now, and Erik’s heart skipped. The trucks were closer. They had no more time. His hand slid under his coat, fingers brushing against the cold metal of the pistol. The first officer turned toward the kitchen. “Is your wife at home?” Erik’s breath caught in his throat. “Yes, Herr Ober- sturmführer. She’s in the kitchen.” Without waiting for permission, the officer strode toward the back of the house. Erik’s eyes flicked to the door. The cellar door was just behind the kitchen, too close. Suddenly, the second officer moved, his eyes dart- ing toward the hallway. Erik’s heart pounded, and he The Anschluss fog knew that this was the moment. He didn’t know how long he could hold it together. “Martha,” Erik muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. “Get them out, now.” In that split second, the officer turned toward Erik, but it was already too late. Erik had reached for the pistol and swung it up in a single, fluid motion. The first officer’s eyes widened, but Erik was faster. The shot rang out, loud and clear in the silent house. The officer collapsed, and the second officer froze, eyes locked on Erik with a mixture of shock and fury. “You...” Erik didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. He was already running for the back door. “Go, go, go!” he shouted, his voice hoarse with adrenaline. Lucas Durand I. Erik’s fingers trembled as they brushed the worn brass handle of the front door. The echo of the bell seemed to reverberate through the walls, stretching the seconds, making each one feel like an eternity. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, the pulse quickening with every beat. It’s them, he thought, his mind racing, already mapping out the next few min- utes, the dozen things that could go wrong. Outside, the streets of Vienna were a cacophony of chaos, shouts, the rumble of military trucks, the sharp commands of soldiers, the blast of Nazi propa- ganda blaring from speakers mounted on every cor- ner. It wasn’t just a political shift; it was the declara- tion of something far darker. Something irreversible. The Anschluss fog The doorbell rang again, this time louder, more de- manding. Erik’s hand clenched around the door han- dle, then slowly released. He glanced over at Martha, who was standing in the dim hallway, her face pale but determined. She motioned for him to wait, a sub- tle gesture, her finger pressed against her lips. “Don’t answer it yet. Wait for my signal,” she whis- pered, her voice tight with a fear she had never al- lowed him to see before. But it was there now, clear as day. Erik nodded, even as his body tensed, his thoughts whirling. Time was running out. Josel and Lotte were hiding in the corner of the living room, their faces drawn and anxious, eyes constantly darting to the windows, the door, any sound from outside. The two of them had been Erik and Martha’s closest friends for years, but now, in this moment, they were more than that. They were lives they had sworn to protect, no matter the cost. Josel’s family, his life —was in their hands. The weight of that responsibility felt like a boulder on Erik’s chest. “Two hours,” Erik murmured, his voice low and urgent. “The trucks leave in two hours. We have to move fast.” Lucas Durand Josel gave a tight nod, his lips pressed into a thin line. There was no time for pleasantries, no space for fear. Josel’s face, normally a mask of confident calm, was now strained. His eyes flicked nervously between Erik and the door. “I trust you, Erik,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. “But don’t get caught.” “Don’t worry,” Erik replied, though his stom- ach churned with the knot of uncertainty. Don’t get caught. The phrase sounded too simple, too naive. They had planned for months, using every one of the logistics connections Erik had built through his company, each relationship woven carefully, each route scouted like a soldier’s advance. But this ... this, felt like an avalanche, a storm that had broken loose with no warning. The doorbell rang again, this time with an urgen- cy that couldn’t be ignored. Erik’s eyes shot to the window. He could see them, the soldiers, marching in formation, the boots pounding the cobblestones like a heartbeat of impending doom. The black, red, and white flags fluttered in the wind, their swastikas gleaming like a twisted symbol of power and death. Every sound from the street made Erik’s pulse race faster, and the weight of the decision pressed down on him like a vice. The Anschluss fog “We have to move now,” Erik said, his voice thick with tension. “I’ll distract them. You—” He looked at Josel, his eyes hard with determination. “Take Lotte and head for the back door. Go straight to the alley behind the house. There’s a car waiting. I’ll catch up with you.” Josel didn’t reply immediately, but there was a flick- er of something ...recognition, fear, perhaps even gratitude, in his gaze. He wasn’t a man who often showed emotion, but in this moment, Erik could see the strain. It was the same look he had when they’d first met, all those years ago. A look that said, We’ll get through this, no matter the cost. But Erik knew this was different. There was no get- ting through this . Not for everyone. Erik turned back to the door. The sound of boots on the cobblestones was louder now, closer, a rhyth- mic pounding that seemed to sync with the frantic beating of his own heart. Through the crack in the curtains, he could see them, at least half a dozen sol- diers, marching with a military precision that seemed to mock the chaos that surrounded them. They weren’t here just for a casual search. They were here for something specific. Lucas Durand The doorbell rang one more time, the sound shrill and final. There was no more time to waste. Erik took a breath, steadying himself, his hand reaching for the door. He swung it open quickly, with an air of casual indifference, though his insides were twisted in knots. There, standing in the doorway, were two SS of- ficers. One was tall, with a thin scar running down his cheek, his eyes cold and calculating. The other was shorter, with thick glasses that magnified his eyes, making them seem almost too large for his face. Both of them were in full uniform, their black jackets glistening in the dim light of the hallway, their boots polished to a high shine. “Guten Tag,” the taller officer said, his voice clipped and professional. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. Erik forced a smile, trying to keep his voice steady. “Guten Tag, Herr Obersturmführer. How can I help you?” “We are conducting a routine inspection,” the of- ficer said, glancing past Erik into the house. His gaze was cold, appraising, like he was looking for some- thing more than just routine. “Reports of... undesira- ble activity in this area. We must check every home.” The Anschluss fog Erik’s heart pounded in his chest, but he didn’t let it show. “Of course. Feel free to look around. Everything’s in order here. Just the wife and I. Noth- ing to worry about.” The officer’s eyes narrowed, and Erik felt the weight of his stare like a physical force. He knew that look, that suspicion. It was too late for pleasantries. “We’ll start with the back,” the officer said, his gaze flicking to the hallway that led deeper into the house. “Please, show us the way.” Erik swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “Of course, Herr Obersturmführer. Right this way.” He moved aside, allowing the officers into the house. The shorter officer didn’t follow immediately, instead lingering in the doorway. His eyes swept over Erik’s face, then flicked to the shadows in the hallway. It was the briefest moment, but in it, Erik felt the ten- sion spike. Something wasn’t right. The officer’s gaze lingered a moment too long. “Everything in order, Herr Steinmann?” the officer asked, his voice taking on a new edge. Erik smiled, a little too tightly. “Everything is fine. My wife... she’s in the kitchen. I’ll have her prepare something for you.” Lucas Durand The officer nodded, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. Erik turned away, stepping quickly toward the back of the house, his mind racing. He needed to keep them distracted. Keep them moving. As the officers moved deeper into the house, Erik’s eyes flicked to the kitchen. Martha was already mov- ing, grabbing the bags, her hands trembling slightly, but there was no time for hesitation. Josel and Lotte were already gone, slipping toward the back door. The rumble of trucks outside grew louder, the vi- brations in the walls a constant reminder of what was happening. Erik heard the officer’s voice again, closer now. “We’ll take a look in the cellar.” No, Erik thought, his heart sinking. If they found the hidden compartments, if they found Josel and Lotte... they wouldn’t stand a chance. “Of course,” Erik said, his voice tight. “The cellar’s nothing. Just storage.” The officer paused, eyes narrowing. “I’ll see for my- self.” It was too late. Erik’s hand shot to his coat, fingers brushing the The Anschluss fog cold metal of his gun. In a split second, he had drawn it, pointing it at the officer’s chest. “Get down!” Erik shouted. The officer froze, his face twisted in confusion, but it was too late. Erik fired. The sound of the shot rang out, sharp and terrify- ing. The officer crumpled to the ground, and Erik turned on the second officer, moving with precision, his training kicking in. The man was too slow, reach- ing for his own weapon, but Erik was faster. Another shot. The officer fell to the floor, eyes wide in shock. Erik didn’t waste a second. He bolted for the back door, his feet pounding against the floor. Martha was already there, waiting. “Go!” Erik shouted. The two of them bolted into the alley, the sounds of the chaos outside closing in on them. The trucks were nearly there. The storm was about to hit. And there was no turning back now. Lucas Durand II. Erik’s fingers tightened around the doorframe as he stared into the eyes of the two SS officers stand- ing on his doorstep. The smell of sweat and tension thickened the air around them. The soldiers were tall, their uniforms crisp and intimidating, but it was their eyes—the cold, empty eyes that made Erik’s stomach churn. The one on the left spoke first. “Guten Tag,” his voice was clipped, but there was no warmth behind it. His steely eyes scanned the small hallway, the cor- ners of the room, before settling back on Erik. “We are searching for Jews in the neighbourhood. We need to conduct a quick inspection.” Erik’s breath caught in his throat, but he forced his features into a mask of calm. His heart raced, but he kept his voice steady. “Of course,” he said, nodding slightly. “But as you can see, I’m not expecting any- one.”