Franky Furbo. William Wharton

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘I don’t take sides, except I’m on the side of life. You two are now alive and are human, the closest creatures on this earth to myself I’ve found so far. There’s no need to thank me; my pleasure is in seeing you well.’

      There’s no answer I can think of to that.

      ‘Did I hear you speaking Kraut – I mean German – to that guy over there?’

       ‘That’s right. I can speak any language spoken on this earth; it’s a hobby of mine. Do you know there are more than six thousand languages spoken on this planet alone? I find it fascinating, also the way languages come about, how they’re constructed. It is easy for me to learn all these languages because of my special mind skills. Our German friend’s name is Wilhelm, the same as yours only in German. His full name is Wilhelm Klug. And your name is William Wiley. Is that right?’

      Of course it’s right. At first I think he’s read my dog tags, but then I remember the other German took them with him. It’s so weird being around someone, even if it is a fox, who knows everything in your head. It almost makes it not worth talking.

       ‘I’d like to teach you to speak German, William. It won’t take any time. I can also teach you everything that is in Wilhelm’s head so you can know him as well as he will know you. That way, I feel you can talk about this war and understand more of what it is supposed to be all about. Are you agreed?’

      By now, I’m so confused I’ll agree to anything. I nod my head.

       ‘All right then, just relax. You will feel a strange warmness and you won’t be able to see or hear for a few minutes, but then it will go away. It’s best if you close your eyes now.’

      Franky lowers his head close to mine. I close my eyes. It’s the way it was in the hole. I feel warmth, but this time going through my whole brain. There is a smell, almost of burnt almonds or the smell of the seed inside a peach stone. It seems to last only a few minutes. Then Franky leans back. He speaks to me.

       ‘Well, how did that feel? It wasn’t so bad, was it?’

       ‘It felt warm in my head and I smelled something peculiar. How should I feel?’

       ‘Listen to yourself.’

      Only then, I realize I’ve answered in German, and it was so familiar to me it sounded like English to my ears. I also realize I do know everything about Wilhelm, all he can remember about his own life. I know where he lived, about his wife, how he misses her. It’s almost as if they are my own memories, but more, as if it’s a movie I’m watching, only seeing it, not actually participating. I stare over at Wilhelm. I turn to Franky.

       ‘You did it. You actually did it. But can I still speak English?’

       ‘Certainly. Sometimes, at first, you might get confused and speak the wrong language, but that won’t last long. In time, your own language will control your German. It’s what you are, an American who speaks English as your home language.’

       ‘You haven’t done this with Wilhelm yet, have you?’

       ‘No. He isn’t quite strong enough, but in a few days he’ll be ready. I think now he would appreciate it if you would speak with him some when I am gone. He’s very lonesome and frightened.’

       ‘I never thought about that. He’s probably as scared as I am. In fact, I know he is, I can feel his feelings. He’s afraid of me even.’

       Franky pats me on the arm while his nose and whiskers quiver again.

       ‘Well, I’m going down to cook you a good meal. Would you like a big omelet with baked potatoes and carrots, all served with fresh homemade bread?’

      He knows I would, he knows everything about me. I smile. He leaves. I look over at Wilhelm. He’s staring at the ceiling and I can see tears flowing from his eyes. I speak and it comes out in German.

       ‘It’ll be all right, Wilhelm. Franky will make everything just fine. We would be dead if he hadn’t saved us, you know.’

      He lifts his head, stares at me.

       ‘You are German?! You are Bavarian, a Munchener?’

       ‘No, I am American.’

      His head falls back. He stares at the ceiling, the wooden

      ceiling.

       ‘But you speak perfect German, the German I speak, the German from my part of Germany. What is this? Are you an American spy?’

      I try to explain how Franky taught me, how, by some magic way, he put part of Wilhelm’s brain into mine.

       ‘But that is not possible. None of this is possible. Who is it who wears the big fox suit? Is this some American trick?’

      I don’t know whether to try explaining it or not. It seems impossible. How can one explain what one not only doesn’t understand but doesn’t even really yet quite believe himself? But Franky wanted me to talk to Wilhelm. I try.

       ‘This fox we see is a real fox, a special fox. He calls himself Franky Furbo. He is not a giant fox; he only looks big to us because he has made us little as foxes. He has saved us from death with his magic medicine and special skills.’

      My God, it sounds just as crazy in German.

       ‘He made us small, took us from the hole, and brought us here. We are in the inside of a tree, which is where this fox lives.’

       ‘Yes, he told me these things. But do you believe him? It is not possible. Perhaps you are crazy, but I am not.’

      I know how he feels.

       ‘Yes. I think I believe him, although it is very difficult. When he gave me your language, he also gave me a good part of your life. Let me tell you some things and maybe then you will believe.’

      I wait. I have a sensation of a Peeping Tom, looking at this film that is in my brain, at the life of this man who a few hours ago was a stranger to me, the enemy I was trained to fight and kill.

       ‘Wilhelm, you are married. You have a wife named Ulrika whom you call ‘Riki’. You miss her very much and are worried for her because of the bombs. Your father’s name is Heinrich. Your mother’s name is Heidi. You had a brother named Hans, but he was killed in Russia. You were studying to be an engineer but were taken into the army.’

      As I talk, Wilhelm twists to look at me. There is pain on his face. It is the pain of his body and the pain of his emotions.

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