NIGHTMARE

It took a while for me to get Lisa on her feet. I helped her up and supported her as Wolff took us out of his office and along the dark hallway where the smell of disinfectant hung in the air like an old ghost. He walked behind, directing us past an office that looked a lot like his, except the only thing in it was a chair, right in the middle of the room. Then we passed another that was stacked with filing cabinets.

We went to the end of the hallway, where a large flight of stairs disappeared into the gloom. I expected to be ordered up into the shadows, but instead, Wolff instructed me to open a door that was set into the wall below the stairs.

‘Go down,’ he said when I revealed the darkness behind the door.

The stink of disinfectant was stronger here, as if this was where the smell was coming from. And I could smell fear, too. My whole body told me this was a bad place, and I hesitated, afraid that if I went down those stairs, I would never come back up again.

‘Go on,’ Wolff snapped.

Still holding on to Lisa, I stepped forward and began to descend into the cellar. This was not like the cellar at Oma and Opa’s house, though, these steps were wide enough for Lisa and me to climb down side by side, and there was a sense that I was walking into a very different kind of space.

When Wolff flicked on the light, it became clear this was not a cellar used for storing old furniture and bicycles. This was not a cellar that housed the beast-like furnace that blazed in the winter months. This cellar was home to a very different kind of nightmare.

The room was twice, maybe three times the size of Oma and Opa’s cellar and there was no junk in there. Instead, there were six cages, three on either side of the room, set back against the cold brick walls, as if it were some kind of private zoo. A corridor between them gave enough space for a grown man to walk to a door at the far end with his arms outstretched and not touch the metal bars on either side. The floor was stone, unpainted but dotted with dirty patches that someone had tried to scrub away. I knew that they were reminders of other prisoners; bloodstains left behind by people who were long gone.

Each cell contained a wooden bunk close to the floor, but only one of them had a sheet over it because only one cell was occupied.

It was Stefan. My heart leaped.

He sat up as soon as he saw me. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Painting on walls,’ Wolff said. ‘Another Edelweiss Pirate like his brother.’

Stefan looked at me with confusion and worry, then started to shake his head. ‘No. You’re wrong. The leaflet was mine. It’s me who painted on the walls.’

Stefan’s bruises were more visible as I came closer to the cell. The light was dull in the prison, but the angry marks on his face were clear enough. His left eye was swollen like mine had been when I returned home after the parade, and his lip was fat and crusted with dried blood. His long hair was gone, too, shaved right down to stubble.

‘What have you done to him?’ I said, going straight to the cell. ‘What have you done to my brother, you pig?’ I turned and glared at Wolff.

‘Don’t,’ Stefan said. ‘Just do what he says. Tell him whatever he wants to know.’

‘Spoken like a true German,’ Wolff said. ‘You see how we can help you to be a better German? When your brother first came in here, all he could do was shout and spit. Now look at him.’

‘What are you going to do with him?’ I asked.

‘I haven’t decided,’ Wolff said. ‘Maybe he’s learned his lesson or maybe I’ll keep him here a while longer. Or perhaps he needs to go back to a camp for a while.’

It was then that I realised Lisa had taken more of her own weight. She felt more sturdy on her feet and there was more strength in her arms. She had stopped sobbing too, and when I looked at her, standing with her back to Wolff, her eyes met mine.

What I saw there was rage.

The moment I saw it, I knew I had to stop her from whatever she was about to do. Before I could move, though, she opened her mouth and let out the most terrible scream. It was so loud and sudden that it stunned us as it echoed about the stone walls.

As the unsettling noise went on, she turned and threw herself at Wolff, taking him by surprise. She knocked him off his feet, forcing him away from her so that his head snapped back and slammed against the bars of the cell on the other side of the walkway. There was a dull clang and he slipped to the floor and Lisa fell on top of him, tearing the leather strap from his grasp and whipping him with it again and again and again.

Wolff didn’t make a sound. He just lay there while Lisa hit him about the face and chest, and I hurried over to grab the leather strap as she brought it back for one more strike. When she looked round to see who had stopped her, it seemed like she wanted to hit me.

‘No,’ I pulled her to her feet. ‘Stop.’

Wolff was lying completely still on the floor. I hadn’t seen him move since he’d struck his head against the bars of the cell.

Lisa stood over him, her shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.

‘Is he dead?’ I asked. ‘Did you …?’

‘No,’ Stefan said. ‘He blacked out. I can see him breathing.’

I turned to look at my brother. ‘What do we do?

‘You have to get out of here before he wakes up. You’ve only got a few seconds.’

‘Then what?’

‘Just get out of here.’

‘What about you? I’m not leaving you. If he wakes up and we’re gone but you’re still here, he’ll …’ It was too horrible to think about what he might do.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Stefan said. ‘Just get away from here, Karl. Run home to Mama and tell Opa to take the car.’ There was panic and desperation in his voice. ‘Drive away. Anywhere. You have to get away from here.’

‘I’m not leaving without you,’ I said, feeling my own rage and panic building. Everything was out of control. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. I was supposed to be home in bed, thinking about how clever I was for having written on the wall of Gestapo Headquarters.

‘Get away,’ Stefan gripped the bars of his cell. ‘Run.’

‘I need the key,’ I said, looking around frantically.

‘Run, Karl.’

‘Where’s the key?’

‘You need to—’

‘I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!’ I shouted at him. ‘WHERE’S THE KEY?’

‘In his pocket,’ Stefan said. ‘You’ll have to be quick.’

I crouched beside Wolff and slipped my hand into his jacket pocket. He groaned and his eyes half opened as I clasped my fingers around a bunch of keys.

‘Hurry!’ Stefan called.

The keys snagged on a loose thread when I tugged them from Wolff’s pocket.

‘Quick!’

I shook them, pulling hard to snap the thread.

Wolff’s eyes rolled as he tried to focus on me. ‘Boy …’ he managed to say.

The keys came loose with a jangle and I jerked them free, hurrying to the cell door.

‘Stop,’ Wolff said, but the word was slow and weak, and when he tried to push up on his elbows, they gave way and he fell back.

Lisa stood over him, glaring down as if she might snap again at any moment.

‘Stop,’ he repeated. ‘Stop. I … know … you …’

There were four keys and I fumbled the first into the lock.

‘Nowhere … to … go …’ Wolff tried to get up, but collapsed once more.

The key didn’t work, so I pulled it out and tried the second.

‘Hurry!’ Stefan said. ‘He’s getting stronger.’

The second key didn’t open the lock.

‘I know you,’ Wolff said again as the third key turned in the lock. ‘I’ll come for you.’