Hidden

By Kevin Farran

"I don't want to be a sociopath."
"Maybe it's not your choice!"

A possibility… could you be harboring an inner sociopath?
What influences our choices, our tendencies? Is it in our genetic nature or is it nurtured in our environment?

The Führer and his love were often separated as the war began to turn against the Nazis, not seeing each other for months. During this time Eva Braun's child could have been born at the Berchtesgaden. Whisked away by the midwife, he was raised by another of the Braun sisters, long before Eva and her beloved Führer ended their brief marriage.

Years later an innocent love affair bundles the truth into the open, inspiring skinhead Nazi radicals, and ultra right Jewish gangs to pursue their sociopathic prize.

Would you not be shocked to find out, YOU are that prize, that target?
As their target, how will you react - if you knew your history?

Pages approx 140

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Farran
• Release date: Apr 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393204329

Book preview

HIDDEN

HIDDEN

KEVIN FARRAN

Contents

Untitled

Early Spring, 1944

Summer, 2007, Berlin

New York

1944

New York

Sparks

Europe

From the past

Petra

The Article

Departure

New York

A Loss

Back to Berlin

Reunion

About the Author

Also by KEVIN FARRAN

Coming Soon by Kevin Farran

Untitled

Published by: Kevin Farran

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All rights reserved and are the sole property of the author.

Reproductions of this work in whole or in part are forbidden without expressed written approval from the author Kevin Farran.

Contact: [e-mail]

Cover design Akarumbi Space

Cinematography for book trailers Lan and Rizzi of

Cubickit Studio

Musical compositions are originals by Ross Bugden are gorgeous, he is a musical angel.

Many thanks to actress Kristel Hagen

and ISSEY

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Author’s Note

All characters within this work are fictitious. Any resemblance or similarity expressed or implied is purely coincidental. The work is completely constructed from the author’s imagination, research and is a fiction.

The factual movements and relationship between Eva Braun and Adolf Hitler is well documented by others far more capable than the author and that is not the purpose of this fiction.

The relationship of Eva Braun’s sister Gretl and execution of her husband on Hitler’s orders days before the fall of the regime is factual. It is possible because of extended absences while she was at the Bergtesgarten, and he was in Berlin, that a pregnancy could have been concealed. From there the story is a… possibility.

Early Spring, 1944

She loathed this time of day. Before dawn, the blue-black death drafts of night, a damp strangling silent scream hangs on your skin, on your breath. The murky drafts slither between the trees, unknowing assistants as the night’s hyena eyes peer into the souls of travellers, an eerie time. The fog swirled with gnarled fingers out of the trees lining the mountain road. It clutched at her thoughts, her conscience. There was enough to dislike about this day as it was without the mist and half-light that often shadowed the day. These days were usually filled with excitement, the expected pain -- a pain never to be forgotten. Always cherished, but in this case, a pain that continues the horror.

Petra had never been a party member. What she had seen prevented that, yet like foam on the ocean, she let her own thoughts wash away her responsibility; so many did. Everything could be reasoned and justified.

The car braked hard and swerved. She was flung across the backseat. Her wrist struck the door handle hard. A dull thud, almost stupid, rocked the three of them. There was silence, then a quickly building hiss. She thought it was a fog-drenched forest snake leeching from the tree line. Was that what she was going to help bring forth? She thought it a sick omen and blanked it out.

Everyone all right? Shit. If that damaged the car. The driver slammed the wheel and pressed his knuckles on the black wheel until they were white and angry.

I, I didn’t even see it, the other sputtered. He’d been drifting half asleep. Now his heart was thumping, his eyes on panic alert.

Petra remained in the back seat huddling away. The pain of a squealing death continued outside the window. Steam spewed from the front of the car defying the brooding fog. Let’s look at it. The two men in their crisp, pressed, four a.m. uniforms stepped from the car. She heard their muffled curses. Then a shot cracked the mist, shattering the mountain stillness. It reminded her how quickly fear wrenched to death.

He opened the door for her. They were stiff, polite, robotic, and quick to kill. She hated them all. I am sorry. A wild boar has hit the car, he said.

I thought you hit it. She didn’t know why she said it. It was stupid and annoying a soldier with a gun, when she could already be expendable by the end of the day, was not smart. It just blurted out.

He stared back emotionless. She wondered what thoughts travelled behind his cold, fox eyes. Had he marched through the streets yelling fervent desire to annihilate? Had he satiated his share of party-sanctioned murder? She stopped herself. It was thoughts like these that had almost sent her down as a sympathizer already.

The other uniform opened her side door and grabbed her bags. It was a pig, probably Russian. They’re all pigs.

Come now, we must walk the last kilometre. I am sorry.

She thought he meant it. Funny that.

Are you hurt? She shook her head. We’ll carry your bags, it is not far. He attempted a smile. Some fresh morning air.

She stared at the uniform and thought, yeah laced with death - how typical of your type. Thankfully this time she kept her mouth shut.

She had been to the building three times since being ordered to relocate to the village inn. She had no family left so there was no one to say goodbye to, not that she was allowed much time. They’d knocked on her apartment door well before breakfast. She wasn’t dressed, only a simple nightshirt, half asleep. She opened the door a crack. Her eye squeaked out like a frightened narrow sliver of wood. They stood stiff, a pair of manicured ghouls with starched characters of hate. They stood like loaded pistols in the doorway and waited for her to pack her single bag. She clearly remembered their eyes, not their names or faces. It was their eyes. They weren’t angry or vile they were just vacant like pools of stark, light blue poison. She gathered what she could, aware they watched her and tried to make herself presentable. Was it to death or to some gruesome duty? Everyone was always prepared these days for one or the other.

She looked at the backs of the two powerful young men as they marched to the iron gate. The crispness of their back muscles burst through their uniforms with each crunch of the gravel road. Their jackboots were cold and crisp like their humour. They oozed a ruthless nonchalance. She would never want either of them in her bed, as her lover. They were her own kind and yet not her kind. How had they changed from little boys playing with bicycles to killing machines, always polite, stiff, and ruthless?

Early morning exercise?

Hit a goddamn boar the size of a tank.

You were always a crap driver.

Piss off. She’s here; we have to go back and get the car. Take her to the entrance. She goes in alone.

I know. The gate guard took her bags and snapped a turn like a twig breaking. With head bowed she scuttled discreetly behind the gate guard toward the grand white house. Even from behind the house the view from the surrounding terrace heralded the unique beauty of the spot. Such vast unblemished forest, it was as if nature laid herself bare and like a longing woman stared back calling, ‘gaze at my wonder.’ She lay there in her glory, her curves calling out, laughing at the pettiness of humans before her splendour.

The lurking grey mist, wallowing in the valley, was now tufted with golden dust. Sunrise wasn’t far away. It was a blessing. It chased the fingers of death back into the forest. Petra’s spirits lifted. Perhaps after the birth, she wouldn’t have to return immediately to the city with the constant bombings and pervasive gloom of death, and hopefully not hers. Nothing could be guaranteed.

The offspring, would she want it to live? It was her duty. She slowed as she reached the entrance. The guard opened the door and smiled at her. He was handsome, a good strong Bavarian man with playful eyes. The thought of duty flashed as she smiled back at the young man. Would the duty fall to him at the end of the day? Could he carry it out? Would he falter? Should she falter and cause an unforeseen death, like the pig in the road. Would he fire a single shot? She wasn’t Russian or a Jew, so perhaps she had a chance.

Good luck.

It will be fine, she is strong and it is early. Is everything prepared?

As you requested.

She nodded a thank you and breathed in his essence. He smelled of pines and freshness. As a guard in the Berchtesgaden it would be expected, still, it excited her.

I’ll bring you some tea, it’s very early. She smiled a ‘thank you’ to the handsome guard and moved past.

For the past three weeks at the inn, she had only seen bullet stiff soldiers with eyes full of conviction and hatred, yet they were always polite, even if devoid of character. It was either those stiffs or fat, sausage-nosed farmers who hung over their beers, beaten like old workhorses, dumb, plodding and avoiding every day’s truth.

A scream from within propelled her to the bedroom; first-time mothers.

The private doctor met her at the entrance with an enormous smile. Hello, Petra. I was worried you might not be able to get here in the fog.

There was a little trouble. How is she?

She’ll be better now that your young experienced hands are here. Doctors like me know much but actually do little.

She squeezed his shoulder. She had always liked him. He believed in life, regardless of the beast. Well, that leaves me doing too much and knowing too little.

Hardly. Come let’s finish this. We can discuss other preparations later. They turned to the young woman as another contraction flowed through her. Petra went to her side and took her hand. She was still a frightened young woman with a body fighting itself.

She looked at the young blonde’s eyes and thought of the doctor’s odd comment. ‘Other preparations?’ What was that? She felt a finger reach from the fog of the forest and stroke the back of her neck.

The room was well prepared for