by Robert Elmer
“Whoa.” Willi whistled as he joined them, not as quiet. “You guys really must be serious about this. Wait until I show you the car.”
“Where is it?” asked Dietrich. Sabine knew he meant the trapdoor, not the car. She pointed to his feet. He stood on a low pile of crumbled cement blocks.
“You’re kidding.” He lifted first one foot, then the other. “We would never have found this on our own.”
“We covered it back up with junk last time.” She got down on her knees and started to brush away the rubble. “Here, let me show you.”
“You don’t need to do that.” Erich put his hand on her shoulder. “All we needed was for you to show us the place. We can take it from here.”
But Sabine didn’t stop.
“If you’re building a tunnel, we’re going to help.”
She glanced at Willi out of the corner of her eye to see him nod. Erich only laughed.
“What are you talking about? You’re going home before Onkel Heinz reports you to Comrade Ulbricht. And you can’t go home all dirty again.”
“What about you?”
“That’s not the question. Besides, this is going to be dangerous, you know.”
“I know. That’s why you need my help.”
“You’re crazy. And you can’t just leave Mutti here in Berlin with Oma.”
“But you can?”
“Listen, I’m helping my friends. That’s different.”
“I say it’s not.”
“And I say you need to go home before you get hurt.”
“I’m not a little kid. I’m thirteen, you know.”
“Doesn’t matter. I say no.”
Sabine wasn’t surprised. But Dietrich looked over at Greta, who nodded.
“They already know where the entrance is,” Dietrich told Erich quietly. “And we could use the help, Erich.”
“What are you talking about?” Erich’s voice rose a few notches. “She’s my sister, and I say she goes home.”
But it looked as if Dietrich could be just as stubborn. Or rather, Dietrich and Greta. Two against one.
“You remember how we agreed to do things,” she said. “Dietrich leads.”
“But if we disagree — ” Erich wasn’t giving up just yet.
“If we disagree, the three of us vote.”
Sabine looked from her brother to the others.
“They can stay, if they want,” Greta finally announced. “As long as they keep quiet about what we’re doing.”
Willi zipped a finger across his lips and grinned. But when Sabine had a chance to think for a second, she wasn’t so sure. Not about keeping quiet. But as she looked down at the hole they’d opened in the floor, she wondered: what had they gotten themselves into?
12
KAPITEL ZWÖLF
TUNNEL FELLOWSHIP
“All right, everybody, listen up.” The flickering candle behind Dietrich cast a weird monster shadow on the opposite wall of the bunker. Sabine and Willi sat on the back end of their car, watching. Four, five, six . . . Sabine wondered if they were all from the hospital, and if they could all keep the secret. And the older guys — all about Erich’s age or a little younger — glanced over at Willi and Sabine with looks that said, What are they doing here?
“I’m glad you’re all here,” Dietrich continued. “Anton and Albricht — ”
Sabine looked twice when a candle flicker illuminated the two faces. Unless she was mistaken —
“And yes, Sabine, they’re twins.”
Sabine nodded, and Willi chuckled.
“I noticed,” she told them. “Only, is there any way to tell you apart?”
Anton grinned and flexed an impressive set of arms. “I’m the better-looking one.”
“You always say that.” Albricht jabbed his brother with an elbow. They could have been a wrestling team, with square shoulders and big chests. “But the only way to tell us apart is the scar.”
He leaned close to the candle he was holding and pointed to his jaw.
“There. See? Ouch!”
A little too close to the candle.
“Albricht, scar; Anton, no scar,” he finished, rubbing his chin.
Sabine smiled and nodded. “Okay. Great. Don’t burn yourself too.”
The others laughed while the third newcomer kept looking over his shoulder, over his head, down at his shoes. He took off his glasses, put them back on —
“And everyone knows Gerhard, right?” Dietrich made the introduction. “He works in the linen room.”
Gerhard nodded but narrowed his eyes at Sabine and Willi.
“No one told me there would be little kids,” he began, giving his head a good scratch.
“We’re not little kids.” Sabine stood up to the challenge. “And we found this bunker in the first place.”
“Hmm.” Gerhard crossed his arms.
“She’s my sister,” announced Erich. “She’s . . . okay.”
Sabine relaxed when her brother defended her to the group.
“So now that we have that settled,” Dietrich went on, “let’s lay down the rules of the Tunnel Fellowship and what we’re going to do.”
Greta brought out a handful of cold candle stubs, giving one to each of them.
“We’re going to need to depend on one another down here,” Dietrich told them, his voice growing more serious. “Even for our lives, maybe. So now’s your chance to leave.”
No one moved.
“We dig together. We escape together. No one is left behind.”
Sabine didn’t dare look at her older brother. Did that include their mother and Oma? What about Willi’s family? Dietrich lit Greta’s candle with his.
“We pledge to one another that we will never reveal this place, this plan, or this fellowship to anyone outside this room.”
Greta turned to light Erich’s candle.
“And if any of us has to drop out of the fellowship, we still pledge to keep the secrets — all the secrets.”
Erich turned to light Albricht’s candle — or maybe it was Anton’s. And so Dietrich went on about always coming to the entrance alone, making sure no one discovered the bunker, where they would pile the dirt, how they would keep watch. His words echoed through the underground rooms
until they all stood facing one another, flaming candle stubs in hand.
“We’re all agreed, then?” asked Dietrich.
“Ja.” Greta nodded. Each, in turn, promised as they went around the circle.
At his turn, Willi nodded solemnly. “Ja . . . ouch!” he cried, sending his candle stub flying. He shook his hand wildly. “Hot wax! Right on my hand.”
Everyone burst out laughing, even Dietrich — for a moment. Then he brought them back to business.
“All right, then, let’s get to it. The twins will be our main diggers, and Gerhard and I will give them breaks when we can. Erich is our engineer and safety man, and Greta will make sure we’re tunneling in the right direction.”
“What about us?” Willi wanted to know.
“Oh, right.” Dietrich held up his finger. “One of you is going to help dump dirt away from the tunnel, and the other is going to watch the entry.”
Willi nodded.
“And in a few weeks — ” Dietrich looked at them, and Sabine felt a stab of excitement. Yes, in a few weeks. If no one saw them coming and going. If no one leaked the secret. If no one discovered what they were doing. If, if, if —
Her excitement exploded into fear. Everyone froze as they heard someone moving in the ruined building above them.
“Shh!” Erich snuffed his candle first. A moment later, the darkness wrapped around them like a cold blanket, and Sabine shivered at the sound of someone scratching at the trapdoor. Willi grabbed her arm. “What . . . was . . . that?” he whispered in her ear. For a minute, she thought he was going to climb up on her shoulders. She didn’t answer, just peeled off his fingers and headed for the bottom of the spiral stairway.
“Sabine?” Her brot
her could not have known it was her climbing the stairs, praying they would hold her one more time. But she had to get to the top before it was too late. She could see the weak light filtering through the cracks. And she could hear the whimpering and scratching — and she knew her guess had been right. Using her crutch for balance, she dug her shoulder up and into the door, popping it open.
“Woof!”
“Hey!” Erich cried from below, and Sabine felt the stairway groan and creak, as if it would give way any moment. She held on to the floor above her, just in case, while Bismarck happily cleaned her face and motored his tail in eggbeater circles.
“Easy.” She did her best to wiggle away, but Bismarck kept right on her. Meanwhile, everyone below wanted to know what was going on — as if she alone could see the enemy through the submarine’s periscope.
“What’s up there?”
“What is she doing?”
“Close the door!”
“Get her down!”
Voices boiled and blended into full-scale panic, until Sabine felt a pair of hands grab her ankles. She had to grab something too, to keep her balance, and when her hands missed the edge of the opening, she connected with Bismarck’s two front legs. Off balance, she felt the mound of moving dog fur fall on top of her, while strong arms wrapped around her waist and eased her toward the floor.
“Wow. You’re heavier than I thought!”
That’s when all three of them tumbled backward. Erich probably took the worst of it; Sabine had her brother-cushion behind and the dog-cushion in front. Bismarck yelped in surprise (Sabine didn’t blame him) while the door above their heads slammed shut once more and darkness reclaimed the bunker.
“I’m okay.” Sabine had lost one of her crutches, though.
“Glad to hear it.” Erich groaned. “But did we just drag down what I think we just dragged down?”
That only jump-started the Tunnel Fellowship panic squad again:
“Did you bring something down here?”
“I’m getting out.”
“Did somebody follow us?”
“What’s going on?”
Finally Dietrich brought a match to life, and the pool of light seemed to quiet everyone. Bismarck stared at him with his tongue-wagging happy face.
“That’s what caused all this commotion?” asked Erich.
“He was just trying to find us,” Willi said, defending Bismarck. He scratched the dog behind the ears. “Good boy.”
“Your dog?” Dietrich asked as he relit a couple of candles.
“He seems to think so, but no.”
“What if someone followed him here?” Count on Gerhard for the dark side. “We need to get rid of him, now.”
“No!” Sabine and Willi both shielded their adopted pet.
“Gerhard has a point,” Dietrich agreed. “He could give us away.”
“He’ll work for us.” Sabine tried to think fast. “He can be a guard dog, or pull a cart, or — ”
Erich shook his head and stared at the floor, thinking.
“I’ll probably regret this,” Dietrich said, taking his candle and heading for the far rooms. “But he can stay — for now. If he makes any noise or gets into any other trouble, though, that’s it. No second chances.”
Sabine nodded seriously and reached for her dropped crutch, but Bismarck had already beaten her to it. Taking one of the handles in his mouth, he wagged his tail and dragged it closer.
“See?” she told them. “He’s already helping out. And he’s really gentle.”
“He is kind of cute,” Greta admitted, holding her hand out to the dog. “Floppy ears means he’s not all shepherd, though, right?”
As Sabine nodded, the hair on the back of Bismarck’s neck stood up, and he gave a low, throaty growl. Greta gasped and pulled her hand back.
“What — ,” she began.
But Bismarck had pointed his attention back toward the hole the street workers had opened — where Sabine had fallen.
“That’s it,” muttered Gerhard. “I’m not working down here with a growling beast — ”
“Shh!” Sabine interrupted. She hugged Bismarck tightly. The dog quieted as well, though he kept alert.
In the silence, they could all faintly hear a worker in the distance.
“I think it’s somebody working on a pipe up there,” Erich told them.
“Did anybody else hear that?” asked Sabine. When they all shook their heads no, she continued, “See? If we have Bismarck around, he can hear things we can’t. And he wasn’t growling at Greta. He was just protecting us.”
Of course that seemed like a good thing to Sabine, even as they worked their way back out a half hour later. Willi and Sabine stood with Bismarck for a minute on the street.
“That’s where we’re going to end up, right?” Willi pointed at the small church cemetery on the other side of Bernauerstrasse, on the other side of the wall — the other side of the world.
“Just forty-two feet of digging.” Sabine quietly echoed her big brother’s words. He was the project engineer, after all; he and Greta would figure out how to come up in the right place, not in the middle of one of the graves. But what if they didn’t measure right? She shivered.
“Back away!” The Vopo guard’s harsh command made Sabine jump as the guard pushed his way between them and the fence. She saw him finger the trigger of a wicked-looking weapon and quickly grabbed Bismarck by the collar to stop his growl.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize we were too close.” Sabine did her best to backpedal, but she caught the tip of one crutch on her heel and almost fell.
The soldier’s face softened as he pushed the helmet back off his forehead. “You need to find another place to walk your dog,” he told them, and he bent down to pat Bismarck, who’d quieted. “A person could get hurt on this fence.”
“We were just on our way home,” Willi told him, but his voice cracked.
“Well, your mother’s going to be upset with you.” The soldier bent a little closer. “How did you get so dirty? Digging a garden or something?”
Uh-oh. Sabine looked down at the grime on her pant legs. Sure enough. Bismarck’s paws looked just as filthy.
“Uh, it’s the dog,” she said, thinking quickly. “He likes to, um, roll in the dirt, and he always gets me dirty.”
The man studied them closely.
“Well, I’d clean up a bit before I got home, if I were you.” And he waved them off with the end of his gun. “Go on now.”
They didn’t wait for another invitation.
13
KAPITEL DREIZEHN
SIGHTED
“Day Two of the Tunnel Fellowship — ” Willi held his school notebook nearly pressed to his face, his pencil nearly poking him in the glasses. “Digging begins under Bernauerstrasse.”
“I don’t understand how you can write like that,” Sabine told him. She finished off the last chunk of French bread she’d brought along as a mid-afternoon snack.
“You get used to it.”
“And besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea to write about what we’re doing. What if someone finds it, like your father?”
Willi flipped the page around to show her. “Does that answer your question?” he asked.
“Looks more like Chinese than German,” she answered as she peered at the horrible chicken scratching of tiny letters.
“It’s backward, skip a word, and . . . well, that’s the secret part of the code.”
“Hmm.” She hadn’t expected that from Willi, but then Willi kept surprising her. So he kept writing, checking back and forth between his notes and his compass. Sabine returned to the little telescope they’d set up in Willi’s window, near the curtain, so they could quickly hide it if anybody looked up.
“Don’t move it. I think I found a good spot,” he told her.
“All I see are gravestones over there. That is not a good spot.”
No matter what, she would not tunnel up through a casket, through a dead body.
Nein. Durchaus nicht! No way!
“I mean closer to the church building. There’s a little spot of grass, I think. You tell me.”
Sabine squinted through the eyepiece. “Okay, I see it,” she told him. “There’s a bench, then a patch of grass, then the building. I don’t know if anyone can see it from the street.”
“Perfect. We’ll tell your brother?”
“I guess so. I don’t know if he’ll listen to us, though. We are just the lowly dirt carriers.”
Willi shrugged. “I don’t mind. I guess I’ve learned to be content with whatever’s going on around me.”
“That sounds like something from the Bible, not you.”
“Hey.” He grinned. “You caught that.”
“Yeah. But are you content enough to stay on this side of the wall for the rest of your life?”
Willi didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice sounded softer. “My mom wants us to leave, really badly. Even lying there in the hospital, that’s all she ever talks about. For her children, she says. She makes Papa crazy.”
“But she’s getting better, right?”
“Well, the baby is still tiny, but she’s healthy. The doctor said they can come home in a few days.”
“That’s great. What about your dad, though? Why is he so — ”
“Papa . . . Papa is, uh . . . Look, Sabine, I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“But we have to talk about it. What if we dig the tunnel, and they won’t come?”
“I know, I know. But you should see Papa every time he hears about someone escaping.”
“Not like Onkel Heinz?”
“No, no. He hates it here, but he acts like . . . like they died of a horrible disease, and we can’t talk about it, or else we’ll catch the disease too.”
“So what happens if you try to say anything?” she asked.
“I can’t . . . I’m not like you, Sabine. You don’t care what other people think. Me, I — ”
Willi’s voice trailed off, and Sabine looked over at her friend. His thick lenses made his eyes look way too big for his face, sort of like fish eyes. He took off the glasses and wiped them on his shirt. She wished she knew what to say to him.
“Don’t worry about your family,” she finally managed. “We’ll figure something out.”