“Ha!” said Stirner. “For once the great Kalakia is speechless. You know, you spent so much time focused on the illuminated spaces that you forgot to look in the shadows. You forgot the place that raised you. Sure, the governments and the elite feared you, but there was another group who truly despised you. How long did you expect them to tolerate all of this? Their retribution is coming.”
Kalakia could sense Stirner’s arrogance growing by the minute, morphing into hubris.
“One last thing,” said Stirner. “Why did you send your men to my home? What did you hope to achieve by destroying it? Did you think I would be so stupid as to leave my family exposed?”
“We will meet again soon,” said Kalakia and prepared to hang up.
“You burnt down my home,” cut in Stirner. “Allow me to return the favour. Goodbye, ‘old friend.’”
Stirner ended the call.
Burscheid assumed he was still wired from the drive. After twenty frustrating minutes he had found no way of relaxing, let alone falling asleep. The bed beneath him was the perfect blend of firm and soft, so that was not the problem. The whiskey had done little to ease his nerves. He had once heard on the radio while driving that counting backwards from one thousand would help him sleep. That had done nothing for him either. After a while he sat up and supported his back with the pillow. He found himself thinking about the man from the food truck. That chubby-faced ball of sweat looked like he had bottomed-out in life. He might have otherwise made it as an enforcer with The League. He had an intimidating look. He had the size. What was he doing serving dumplings from a food truck? Then Burscheid’s eyes widened. The truck. It was taking up a large portion of the sidewalk and posing an unwelcome obstruction for the passers-by. No one in their right mind would allow it in such a high-traffic area. Without warning, the unease that had kept Burscheid awake emerged through the fog of fatigue, bringing with it a message of doom that sent tremors down Burscheid’s spine.
He bounced off the bed and quickly put on his shirt. He ignored his socks and tossed his shoes on before rushing out, not bothering with the laces. Outside he slapped the elevator button multiple times. After some seconds, he grunted and took the emergency stairs instead, shuffling down the steps as quickly as possible and emerging in the lobby. The urgency overtook him, and he broke out into a jog. The front revolving door had people in it. He took the side door instead. Upon exiting he halted suddenly. The food truck was empty. In front of it were two teenagers, a boy and a girl with hole-riddled jeans and t-shirts. The boy was holding a dumpling while staring in confusion at the street. Burscheid followed his gaze and saw the chubby-faced man getting into a black Audi sedan.
“Why did he just leave like that?” said the boy to his friend in German.
A sharp pain shot through Burscheid’s chest like a bullet had struck him. His legs began moving by themselves.
“Everyone move!” he screamed while swinging his arms frantically to the side. “Get away from the truck!”
He hugged the two teenagers as he approached and forced them along with him to the side. The boy holding the dumpling yelled out as his food flew out of his hand. Then the ground shook beneath their feet, the explosion scorching Burscheid from behind while lifting the three of them into the air.
Frederich flinched from the thunderous boom. Hot tea spilt on Ida’s hand and onto the carpet as she almost lost her grip. The two of them lifted their heads simultaneously and looked at each other with worried expressions as aftershocks continued to rumble in the distance.
“What was that?” said Ida.
She leaned over and placed the cup on the table. Frederich went to the window but saw nothing when he looked out, only a clear sky. The two of them instinctively made for the door. They barrelled through the hallway and left the apartment, leaving the front door open, and quickly descended the stairs before going out to the front of the building and onto the street. There was a large plume of smoke rising in the air from the direction of Zoologischer Garten. People stood disoriented on the sidewalk sharing concerned expressions. Frederich did not doubt that The League was involved. He would need a closer look.
Ida was gazing up awe-struck at the smoke with her lips parted. She then lowered her head and turned toward Frederich with a dazed expression.
“Go inside, Ida,” said Frederich.
In response her face hardened and she flared out her nostrils. Frederich got the message immediately. He nodded, and together they began running toward the source of the smoke. They reached the intersection of Kantstrasse where the traffic was at a stand-still. There were frightened faces everywhere. Frederich and Ida turned and sprinted in the direction of Zoologischer Garten. They ran the next few hundred metres against a stampede of terrified people. Eventually they reached Zoologischer Garten, where ambulance sirens, police sirens and pandemonium met them. They took a moment to catch their breath then worked their way around the crowd to the Grand Luxus hotel. It was barely recognisable, the explosion and resulting chaos having redrawn the entire area. Half of the facade was missing, and there was a large crater in the street. People lay screaming, bloodied, covered in dust, with ambulance personnel attending to them. The police were creating a security barrier around the scene, urging bystanders to leave the area. Frederich squinted and looked into the distance. Was it? Yes, it had to be. He recognised the ponytail and pale skin. It was Erik, hunched over on the ground. A medic approached but Erik waved him off. After multiple attempts, the well-meaning samaritan finally gave up and moved on to check on other people.
The screams were merciless. Frederich
