Under Amber Skies

by Maria V. Snyder

  Wild, horrible scenarios fill my mind and, after what feels like a thousand hours, I peek in the kitchen window. As I feared, my mother sits on a chair. Her lip is split and bleeding. Bright purple bruises dot her face. Six men--enhanced Nazis--surround her, asking questions about my father, but she keeps quiet. The Nazis stand stiff-limbed and awkward, probably still recovering from the encounter with my crab helpers last night. I recognize Thin-face and Elbow-man, but not the other four. I note Thin-face's left arm is still immobilized and Elbow-man is balancing all his weight on his right leg.

  Thin-face asks my mother where he can find my father, but she refuses to answer. He strikes her. I marvel at her strength as I fight the desire to rush to her. Getting caught isn't on my agenda, and would only add to her misery. Pushing the fear aside, I concentrate on the reasons that brought me here. I sneak over to the barn and slip inside.

  Once I'm certain no one is hiding there, I twist on the bug light. The piles of dirt are undisturbed. The crabs have erased their marks. A few broken ones litter the floor. I touch the face of my watch with my left index finger--the same finger my father used to draw my attention on my birthday--and whisper, "It's time."

  A pulse of light erupts from the face. Bug lights glow from the walls as crabs push out and crawl from the dirt. Working together, they dig a tunnel into the piles. After digging down a couple of quick meters, they uncover a large metal pipe. I peer inside and see a distant orange glow. Who can resist the light at the end of the tunnel? Not me.

  Perhaps my father is there waiting.

  The pipe is more than big enough for me to crawl through. I'm four meters in when a yelp echoes behind me.

  The Nazis. Half of the crabs following me reverse direction to attack the intruders. Good. I keep crawling.

  Except the next curse sounds familiar. Scrambling back, I poke my head up out of the hole in time to see Inek cornered, his legs covered with pinching crabs.

  "No!" I say. They keep climbing. "Stop." They listen too well, simply clinging now to Inek's trousers.

  "Come here," I try that command and it works. They surround me like soldiers, waiting for orders. Handy. Could I send them after the Nazis beating my mother?

  "Thanks," Inek says.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask. "I told you--"

  "I was halfway home when I figured it out."

  "Figured what out?"

  "You lied to me. I saw your confused expression last night when you were sorting through the rubble of your kitchen. It just took me a while to match it to what you held in your hand. My stack of letters."

  "Letters from my father to my mother," I say. "Go home, Inek."

  "And that was my other clue. You've been trying so hard to protect me and my family. What better way to send me away than to tell me you don't care for me." He edges closer, careful not to step on the crabs, our saviors. Who seem to be ignoring him now.

  "Go home," I say again. "Or I'll ..."

  "What? Send your little metal army after me?"

  "Yes."

  "Go ahead."

  I point at Inek and say, "Attack." Nothing. I almost laugh at Inek's shocked expression. "En guard." Nothing. "Charge." Nothing.

  "You were--"

  "Testing to see which commands they obey," I say.

  By now he's close enough to touch, and the crabs are still motionless.

  "Tell me the truth, Zosia." Inek wraps his arms around my back. "Are you protecting me or do you really wish me gone?"

  "I can't ... The Nazis have my mother."

  "I'm truly sorry."

  "You need to--"

  His stops me with a kiss. Heat spreads through me, and I'm the one deepening it. Inek pulls me tight against him. Just for a moment, I forget the Nazis and my mother. Forget we are two separate beings.

  He's the first to stop and draw back with an impish smile. "I was right."

  "Yes, you solved the puzzle. Now go." I shoo.

  "Not before we help your mother." He presses his lips together, jutting out his chin.

  Too stubborn for his own good, fighting with him will just waste more time. "Fine. You can come along. But don't blame me if you get yourself killed." Returning to the pipe, I crawl inside without waiting to see if he follows. My crab army is at my heels, though. Their metal legs clink and clatter behind me.

  The tunnel ends at a set of stairs. Bug lights glow as I step down. By the time we reach the bottom, the entire room is lit. It's easily four times the size of the basement workshop.

  This must be where my father built his war machines. Lethal-looking devices and gadgets line the shelves, schematic drawings cover the far wall, and prototypes sit in neat rows on the ground. Tools and supplies are scattered as if my father left in a hurry. All the way at the back of the room is a jumble of half-completed farm equipment, as if carelessly discarded. The pile is next to a patch of bumpy ground. I wonder what is hidden beneath. More crabs? Another invention of my father's? Something just as wonderful?

  "Wow," Inek says. "If this is what he left behind, imagine what he'll create to fight the war."

  I scan the room, searching for a device or weapon that could help free my mother. Finding a promising long-barreled gun, I pick it up and toggle the power button. Nothing happens. It remains dead in my hands. Odd. I walk around the lab, examining the items. Something feels ... off.

  Part of the far wall slides back then, revealing my mother. On seeing me, she covers her gasp of surprise with her hand. Her face resembles raw meat. Before I can react, four Nazis rush in. My loyal metal army scrambles toward them. The men aim their Lugers at Inek, me, and my mother. They order me to stop the crabs or they will shoot us.

  "Stop!" I yell. The crabs halt at my command.

  Fear swells. Simple subtraction means there are two more Nazis waiting upstairs. Dread churns in my chest at the same time. "Zosia, what are you doing here?" my mother demands.

  "Rescuing you," I say.

  The Nazis find my answer amusing. The man pointing his Luger at my mother's temple says, "Drop your weapon."

  I forgot about the useless device in my hand. Dropping it to the ground, I realize with a heart-lurching certainty that there is no way we can escape. We no longer have the element of surprise on our side.

  Thin-face strolls around the room, inspecting the weapons. He tries a few of the smaller devices with his right hand. They're all like the long-barreled gun--powerless. He returns. No one has moved or spoken.

  "Miss Nowak, your mother was ... kind enough to show us your father's secret workshop, but she claims ignorance about what fuels your father's machines. What leaves behind that black oily residue. Perhaps with her daughter's life in jeopardy, she will be more cooperative," Thin-face says.

  "I swear, I don't know," my mother cries. "No one knows except Casimir."

  Thin-face exchanges a look with Elbow-man. I step forward as the loud report of gunfire fills the room. Inek flies back into the wall. A bright red stain spreads on his chest as shock spreads on his face. He slides to the floor.

  I rush over. Kneeling next to him, I press my palm over his wound. "Damn it, Inek. Why couldn't you just go home."

  Dazed, he peers at me for a moment before he smiles. "Because you care."

  "Mrs. Nowak," Thin-face says. "One last chance or Miss Nowak's next."

  "I don't know!" Mother yells.

  I stand. "She doesn't. But I do. Let my mother take Inek to the doctor and I'll tell you everything."

  "Zosia, no," my mother says. "Our whole country is at stake! Millions of lives."

  "I don't care," I say.

  "I'll let your mother live," Thin-face says. "The boy won't make it to the doctor."

  He's right. Inek coughs up blood. Color leaks from his face. Why couldn't my father invent a healing machine? Instead of these machines of war.

  And ... click. Two thoughts lock together. I realize why these weapons felt wrong. My mind races. My gaze lingers on the crab army built by my father. Built to prot
ect me.

  "What is the fuel?" Elbow-man demands.

  "It's Baltic Electrons. Also known as Jantar. It's a black oily rock found only on the shores of the Baltic. My father stores it upstairs."

  Thin-face taps his Luger on his thigh. "We didn't see it."

  "Did you check the attic?" I ask.

  "There isn't one."

  I shake my head as if amazed by his stupidity. "Haven't you figured it out that my father loves to deceive the eye? The barn, this workshop ..." Thankfully, Mother remains silent.

  He gestures with his gun. "Show us."

  I hesitate. "Can you give me a moment alone with Inek?"

  Thin-face considers. He sends oneman to climb the steps to the barn, guarding the exit--my only escape. "One minute."

  They pull my mother with them into the other room. I crouch beside Inek. Eyes closed, he's slumped on the floor, gasping for breath.

  I take his hand in mine. "You were right. The first time I read your letters was this morning. I'm sorry."

  He squeezes my hand. I lean close and kiss him on his cold lips. Then, in desperation, I point to the hole in Inek's chest with my left index finger. "Heal him," I order, but my army remains still.

  Think! Father created them to protect and help me. "Fix him," I say, and the four closest crabs scramble onto his chest, clicking as metal gadgets unfurl from their bodies as if they are the Swiss Army knife of crabs.

  No time left. I run from the room with my insides turning to ice. I know those metallic creatures can't really fix a living being. Even my father isn't that smart. They will probably just increase the speed of poor Inek's demise. But it's a fairy tale I cling to in order to get through the next ten minutes.

  I lead the five Nazis upstairs. We do have an attic. It has multiple entrances--all hidden except one. We squeeze inside the master bedroom's closet, which is bigger than it looks. The cord hanging down from the ceiling appears to be connected to the light bulb, but the switch is located on the wall. Before I yank the cord to lower the ladder, I ask Mother where Father is.

  "He's in England," she says.

  Thin-face huffs in surprise. "Not in Warsaw?"

  "Too risky. He is safe in London, helping our allies."

  I meet my mother's gaze. "Those weapons below aren't his inventions are they?"

  "Decoys to make the Nazis believe he was still here."

  She's lying. They were too well made to be mere decoys. Her left eye is almost swollen shut by the bruises on her face. Yet there is a defiant hardness in her gaze. My father wouldn't make war machines, but she would. Except she didn't know how to power them.

  I tug on the cord, grunting with effort, pretending it won't budge. I rub my arms and ask for help as my finger brushes my wristwatch. One of the younger Nazis yanks the rope with all his strength. The well-oiled door flies open and all the precious amber stores pour out, taking everyone but me by surprise.

  Pushing against Thin-face in the commotion, I grab his Luger and aim it as his heart. He freezes in shock. The young Nazi is buried in mere seconds. Mother wrestles the gun away from Elbow-man then shoots him in the head with quick efficiency. I blink in surprise.

  More gunfire cuts through the hissing of the steadily falling amber as another Nazi's forehead explodes under my mother's cold skill. Then the clattering of my army of crabs soon adds to the confusion.

  The crabs zap and disarm the last enhanced Nazi, destroying his circuitry with their shocks, but my mother calmly executes him anyway. The next bullet pierces Thin-face right between the eyes before I can scream at her to stop, horrified at her killing.

  "It's war, Zosia," she says before rushing off to dispatch the other Nazi at the barn exit.

  She's back by the time I reach our ruined kitchen. Ringed by my protective crabs, I stand amid the debris, reluctant to see Inek's body, but knowing I should. Mother puts on her apron and bustles about making tea as if this is a normal day.

  "How did you know the attic was booby trapped?" she asks.

  I don't answer her. Instead, I ask, "Where is Father?"

  "Probably in America by now." She waves her hand dismissively. "The Nazis have no reason to fear him. He ran away like a scared little boy." She huffs. "He asked me to abandon my country. All so he could build better plows instead of better tanks and airplanes." Her tone is harsh. The images of the executed Nazis float in my mind.

  "He built these crabs," I say in his defense.

  She tsks. "Toys really. Mother Crab's Children he called them."

  "They saved me."

  "We'll use them to bring the bodies to the basement. I'll contact the Polish authorities in the morning. They'll have to take me and my weapons seriously now. Your father wasn't the only creator in the family. The government will move us back to Warsaw, but I'll make sure I bring wagon loads of Jantar along so I can invent and fuel more armaments for Poland."

  She sounds so rational, yet I'm stunned by her words.

  "Zosia, sit. Have some tea." Handing me a cup, she gestures to the ceiling. "I assume the Jantar is hidden in the attic along with the amber?"

  I stare at her. Jantar is the old Slavic word for amber. The Greek word for amber is electron. Baltic Electrons are just pieces of amber. Easy to find along the Baltic coast. It's amber that fuels my father's machines. But she is oblivious.

  I fetch a clean bedsheet and go down to the basement labs. My crabs follow me, and I idly wonder how to turn them off.

  Inek is lying flat on his back. His skin is gray. One crab has remained on top of him like a stubborn pet who refuses to leave its dead owner. I shoo it off.

  Sitting by Inek's body, I'm too numb to cry. I stare at the dirt floor. It's smooth as glass, except for that patch near the back wall, which is scuffed and lumpy.

  Unfolding the sheet, I lay it over Inek and decide there is nothing holding me here anymore. After he is buried, I'll leave and search for my father in America. Mother can figure out the fuel source without my help.

  "Zosia?"

  I'm startled to my feet. The sheet moves and I back away.

  "Still trying to get rid of me?" Inek squirms, uncovering his face. "Shouldn't you have checked my pulse first?"

  I rush over and hug him tight as joy fills me.

  "Easy." Pain laces his voice.

  I relax my grip. "Sorry. I was just ... But you were ... How?"

  He tries to sit up, but winces before sinking back. "Those damnable crabs of yours."

  I pull the sheet off and inspect his chest. The wound is off-center, about an inch and a half from his heart. The torn flesh has been stitched together with ... I laugh. I can't stop the giggles until tears stream along my cheeks.

  "Are you going to tell me what's so funny?" Inek asks.

  I suck in huge gulps of air to calm my emotions. "The crabs have used fishing line to close your wound."

  Inek appreciates the irony. "I wonder what else they did. I passed out soon after they started."

  Glancing around, I spot a flattened bullet.

  "I think they dug out the bullet, and fixed your lung."

  "Think?"

  "We should take you to the hospital."

  He refuses. I help him upstairs instead. Covering the ruined cushions with the sheet, I settle him onto the couch. My metal army scurries under and over the furniture, waiting for me.

  Exclaiming over his recovery, Mother dashes to the kitchen to fetch him tea. Which, it seems to my mother, is the cure all for encounters with Nazis. After all that shooting, she didn't try to comfort me, or hug me, or even ask if I was all right. No. She handed me a cup of tea.

  I sit on the edge of the couch, holding Inek's hand. His family will be so worried about him. Inek is sound asleep by the time Mother returns. She stands in the threshold of the living room with his cup, and stares at my crabs with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

  I frown. "They're mine," I say to her in a whisper. Although I doubt anything less than a thunderclap will wake Inek.

  "Don't be si
lly, Zosia. They can help with the war effort."

  "Then make your own. I'm taking Inek home tomorrow, and then I'm leaving for America."

  "No, you're not." Her stern tone warns that she won't tolerate an argument.

  Too bad. She's finally going to get one. "Yes, I am. Did you even consider the danger to me and our neighbors when you decided to trick the Nazis?"

  "Of course it's dangerous. It's war."

  An easy excuse. "Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?"

  "To keep you safe."

  "Wouldn't I have been safer in America with Father?" I demand.

  "You belong in Poland."

  "And Father agreed to this?" I ask.

  She hesitates. "Eventually. He wouldn't agree until those ... crabs were ready. I begged him to stay. Pleaded that he should build giant crabs to defend against the Nazis. This is his homeland! But he wouldn't listen. And he refused to tell me about the Jantar. Baltic Electrons, pah! What utter nonsense."

  Mother clutches the tea cup in a tight fist. Her anger still raw even after three months. I remember how eerily calm she was when shooting the Nazis. How she seemed willing to let Inek die. Yes, in wartime saving millions of people in exchange for a single person is logical, yet ...

  I remember her words. The Polish authorities will now take me seriously.

  "Where is Father?" I ask.

  "I told you--"

  "Where in America? It's a big country."

  She glances at the floor. "I don't know. He didn't tell me."

  "Surely he sent you letters? Or me? Did you hide them like you hid the ones Inek sent?"

  Frowning, she shoots Inek a disgusted look. "Don't worry, Zosia, you'll soon forget him and we'll find a ... better suitor in Warsaw. We all have to make sacrifices for the war."

  I stare at her. When did she turn from patriotic to psychotic? "Why did you save Inek's letters if you want me to forget him?"

  Her hands twist around the tea cup. "The letters reminded me of another ... boy." Mother's expression softens into ... I don't know. I've never seen her look this way before. Maybe love. Regret perhaps.

  "Fredek Lisowski and I were to wed in the fall of 1920. He was a soldier and he sent me a letter every week. Fredek was killed in the Battle of Warsaw." Once again anger flares. "I met and married your father a year later. His genius attracted me, but his useless devices ..." She put the teacup down and wiped her hands on her apron. "I tried to get him to make more useful things like weapons."