R. Harrison Dunn IV - Chapter 6 Sanctuary of The Chosen

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A fine, powdery snow, unseasonably late, had covered the ground with a blanket an inch deep and was still falling when at last the train reached Berlin. It was nearly an hour’s walk from the central station to Ari’s destination—the apartment of an American friend. No buses served that area of the city, and Ari didn’t dare take a cab. The driver might be questioned and remember him. The dry powder crunched under his feet and a bone-chilling wind seemed to go right through his pants and light jacket. The discomfort was hardly noticed, however, at the elation of knowing he had escaped and would soon be in a safe hiding place.

The streets were alive with the early morning press of workers hurrying to their jobs. They were reluctantly bundled up against the unusual storm in winter clothes that had already been put away for the season. Ari held his hand over his wound and turned his head away whenever he encountered anyone along the sidewalk. No one seemed to notice him as they scurried past, each preoccupied with his own thoughts.

After Ari had been walking briskly for about forty minutes, the number of pedestrians thinned out until the streets were almost empty. Only an occasional small East German car, spewing exhaust, chugged past, while the number of large foreign cars and chauffeur-driven limousines increased dramatically.

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