Seek shelter with Franziska!!

“Let's go!” I spring up after her, and she takes my hand. She leads me three the darkness. I hear the barking of AA guns as their tracers race up toward the bombers above.

Meanwhile, Franziska’s grip is so tight on my wrist that I think she’s trying to break it. She only lets go of me when she leads me to what looks like a wine cellar. “Bleib hier!”

“Where are you going!?” I shout at her.

“Ich kann meinen Hund nicht verlassen!” She wails, confusing me for a moment, but then I realize she’s racing back for her dachshund.

“Franziska!” I grab her by the waist and pull her back. “I’ll get your dog! You stay here instead!”

“No!” She cries. “He won’t listen to you. Please, let me go instead! It’ll be faster this way!!”

I swallow, but I figure it’s already been too long, so I trust her. I feel the ground rumbling and wonder why it took so long for the Germans to spot our bombers.

The cellar is dark, dank, and cramped. There are bedrolls on the ground, glass jars with food and water, and then some basic creature comforts like books and card games. None of this matters, however, when Franziska crashes in and falls on one of the cots with her dog in her arms.

I watch “schnitzel” frantically lick her face as she sobs hopelessly. I stand awkwardly, listening to the harsh buzz of the planes go by. I take stock of the surroundings and frown. If any bombs dropped near this, I knew this place would do little to help. Me, Franziska, and her dog would become no more than a pile of unidentifiable chard flesh.

Eventually, I sit down in the corner and wait for things to calm down. When Franziska finally sits up, her eyes are all puffy and pink, fresh with tears; it makes the eyes' color more prominent.

It’s challenging to maintain the stare, so I glance down before speaking. “Where’s your mother?”

“Krankenhaus,” she says in a whisper. “Sie ist Krankenschwester.”

My mind races. I can piece together “sick house” as a hospital and that she probably said her mom was a doctor of some sort. “Will she be safe?”

Franziska shrugs. “Usually.”

The bursting becomes distant, and the barking of the AA has stopped. The bombers are going deeper into Germany and will soon release their devastating payload on some poor Nazi bastard unlucky enough to be caught in the raid.

Despite my opinion of the German people at its lowest, I regarded Franziska like a human being still when I looked at her. She looked small and fragile, no longer prominent or proud when she was hunkered down here in the dirt.

I sit next to her and bump my knee against hers. “How are you feeling?”

“Not well,” she lets her dog with while her hands tremble, however. He seems **** to go far. “I feel sick. I always feel sick when this happens.”

I slowly nod as I understand, but I don’t. I wasn’t in Hawaii when the Japanese came there. I didn’t experience the Battle for Britain. And I wasn’t a German experiencing the growing firepower of the Allies' advantage. How would I feel? The mixed sense of feelings I got while stuck in here made my head spin.

“Can you hug me?” Franziska asks suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

She sighs. “I just don’t want to feel alone.”

“Uhm,” my mind continued to spin. “Sure.”

I held Franziska. She didn’t cry or say anything. Instead, she wrapped herself around me, invading my nostrils with the scent of artificial apples. She shivered slightly. “My mom would hold me whenever the bombers flew by.”

“Does it help?”

She muses. “Das fühlt sich anders an.”

“What?”

“Yes,” she follows me with. “The day I found you, I was going back for Schnitzel. But, instead, I stumbled over a downed pilot and hit him with a shovel.”

“So, that’s how it happened.” I ran a hand over the back of my head.

“I wanted to kill you. I wanted to turn you in. I wanted the Fürhur to make a spectacle of you in Berlin,” Franziska’s voice started to quiver, but it faltered. “But experienced pilots are hard to come by, and I wanted you to go fight for the right side.”

I wanted to ask why she thought she was on the right side but decided not to prod my smuggler. I remained silent while holding her, and before I knew it, she was asleep, and the bombers were silent.

Now alone, I looked around the shelter I was in. How long could the Germans last? How long would this war continue to ravish Europe?

…

…

The following day, I woke up alone. The shelter’s door was open, so I crept out. I didn’t see Franziska or hear anything outside the ordinary. No Germans, no planes, hardly any birds. “Franziska?”

I pinched myself to ensure I wasn't dreaming and felt my nerves protest. Finally, I concluded I was alone and free to act of my own accord.