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A Peek before Publishing


Excerpt from: To the Battlefield and Beyond: The Journey Continues

by Scott Meehan


EAST BERLIN

DECEMBER 1987

 

As we sped through the desolate streets of East Berlin, a sense of foreboding settled over me like a heavy shroud. The darkness seemed to press in from all sides, enveloping us in its suffocating embrace. The eerie silence was broken only by the low hum of the car's engine and the occasional echo of our tires against the worn pavement.


I couldn't shake the feeling of unease as we navigated through the labyrinthine maze of narrow alleyways and crumbling buildings. The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on my chest, filling me with a sense of dread that seemed to intensify with each passing moment.


The driver maneuvered with practiced precision, expertly weaving through the maze of backstreets and shadowy passages. It was as if we were navigating through a forgotten realm, a place untouched by the passage of time and the light of day.


We continued our journey into the heart of the unknown, my emotions on edge. What secrets awaited us in this dark and forbidding landscape? And more importantly, would I emerge from this encounter unscathed, or would I become lost in the depths of the night, swallowed whole by the darkness that surrounded us?


Navigating through the desolate neighborhood, the car was swallowed by the darkness and the eerie surroundings. The fog crept closer, enveloping us in a damp embrace as we pressed forward. Dim streetlamps intermittently illuminated our path, casting feeble light on the wet cobblestones below.


As we continued, the atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive, the silence broken only by the rhythmic thud of the windshield wipers. Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by the approach of headlights behind us. Both Alex and the driver tensed, their conversation shifting to urgent tones in Russian. 


Feeling a surge of apprehension, I couldn't help but inquire about the situation. Alex, maintaining a calm facade, assured me that all would be well soon, though his words did little to ease my growing unease.


After a series of evasive maneuvers, we managed to lose sight of the pursuing vehicle, a predictable outcome given the vast difference in performance between the Lada Samara and the East German Trabant. The tension in the car began to smooth as we continued on our journey.


The oppressive weight still clung to me, because in my mind, danger still lingered in the night. We pressed on through the maze of East Berlin's shadowy streets. 



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