Das ist Hölle

This is Hell

What is this? What has happened here? Where am I? Is this Hell?

The silence that followed the aftermath of the bomb made everything more eerie than it usually was. The street – once alive with children playing soccer in the middle of the street – was completely decimated and in absolute ruin. LSE officers were swarming, picking and prodding at the rubble in wonder if anyone had survived. So far, no survivors. Somewhere down the road a woman lay scissored to the ground. Without saying anything, two of the officers walked up what used to be the yard of number thirty three Himmel Street. Formerly the house of Mr. and Mrs. Hubermann.

It was her hair that had caught their attention. Among the piles was a girl under the cement and roof tiles and a broken wall with a dripping sun on it. With a sturdy hand removing a piece of the wall, the LSE officer threw his head back in an astonished laugh. "I can't believe it – she's alive!" All around the men were filled with happiness that someone survived.

They pulled her out and brought her some way down the street, where they dusted off the pieces of rubble. "Young girl, the sirens were too late. What were you doing in the basement? How did you know?"

She didn't answer. What she did shocked them and almost made them let her go. She screamed. "Papa!"

They tried to keep her in their arms, but she fought. She kicked, scratched, tore at the men with all that she had, and she managed to break away from them. She ran.

And she ran…

And ran…

And ran.

She didn't know where she was running. Himmel Street didn't exist anymore. The musty smell of demolished brick and annihilated buildings covered the air. Dust floated about the ruins and covered the ground. Her hands were bleeding and shaking, but she wasn't worried about that. Her heart was pounding wildly inside her chest. The sky was the color of drying blood, and it spoke exactly of what had happened. Death was busier than ever. He had already left Himmel Street – he couldn't stick around for too long, for he had many, many more places to go – with the souls of those whom had once take inhabitance on the street.

Liesel came to a staggering walk, one of the men catching up to her and grabbing her arm. "You're just in shock, my girl. It's just shock; you're going to be fine."

"What happened? Is this Himmel Street?" she asked, her voice barely over a whisper.

"Yes. This is Himmel. You got bombed, my girl."

At that, her knees buckled. The man caught her, saying something to the others. Something about moving her soon. Something about getting her out of there. The man lifted her and started to lead her away. Her eyes were wide with horror, moistened with unshed tears. She was rigid and cold. The snowflakes were burning into her hand as the snow slowly began to fall on the ground.

She could only helplessly stare in the distance as she walked, not finding it worthwhile to figure out what building was what anymore. But, then, out of nowhere, a voice whipped across the bombed street. "Hey, there's another survivor!"

Liesel Meminger found herself stopping, standing there with a blank expression on her face. "Papa?" She whispered softly, taking a few steps forward. However, the officer that had been standing beside her made a motion for her to stay put as he jogged off towards the voice.

She didn't stay.

She was running again, fast, towards the voices. It was hard to see, though. Dust still penetrated the atmosphere, and she coughed and wheezed as rubble went down her throat. Blinking and pulling through a cloud of dirt, her musty brown eyes flickered to the demolished house that used to be hers.

Her hands started clawing frantically at the pile. Papa, she thought continuously. Papa, Papa, Papa. She threw away tiles and pieces of drywall, not caring where they went. Finally, pulling another piece away, she found them.

They were tangled in the sheets, fast asleep. If it weren't for the crumbs in their hair and across their skin, Liesel would've easily believed them to be sleeping. Her heart stopped for a moment. "They're not moving…they're not moving…" And the emotional rollercoaster started. She muttered many things. She didn't want to remember Papa as a man with dead eyes. He had silver eyes, not dead ones. Mama looked much more peaceful, less stressed. The tears were starting again, and this time, she didn't stop them. "Mama…" she whispered, falling to her knees at her adopted parents' feet. "Papa…"

The sound of coughing broke her from her crying. She turned her head around, her brown eyes dancing helplessly across the street. She saw a flash of lemon hair as the men pulled someone free of the debris…

Rudy?

He looked weak, and his pale German skin showed the damage and ruins of his life. The men forced him to sit down, and he coughed and heaved. His leg was twisted in an unsightly way, bent in ways it was never meant to be. He had a streak of blood running down the side of his face, and he was hunched over helplessly. His blue eyes flickered to the demolished house, where his family lay scattered about. He knew they were dead. They were all dead.

Why Rudy had been down in his basement, Liesel could never imagine. She would've thought he had been asleep, like everyone else; like the rest of the world that had been sleeping and not hearing the sound of the sirens. The sirens that didn't go off that night. Everyone who was scattered on the ground, their faces buried in dust. She was thankful she couldn't recognize them. It would only make things worse.

She pushed forward, a broken smile spreading across her face. Her muscles were screaming in response, wanting to rest, but her heart was driving her now. Rudy was alive. He was alive! She pushed past the LSE men and nearly tackled Rudy, but she held back. She slid to a stop and crouched down with her hands resting atop of his on his lap. His hands were bloody and covered in dirt. His face was darker because of the rubble, and he seemed much more worn out. He didn't look as awestruck as Liesel did. Had he already drunk in the information that he was an orphan? That he had no family left?

It seemed to take a moment for Rudy to register that warm hands were holding his. He was still watching the smoldering house, expecting his mother to get up and come and reassure him this was only a dream. Slowly, his head craned back into its regular position. His shattered blue eyes found Liesel's chocolaty brown ones, and he could only suppress an absurd half-smile. In his mind, he was imagining his friend sitting there beside him. It couldn't be possible. Everyone was dead.

"Rudy?" Her voice was soft, but was also filled with worry. She felt her face growing hot and her eyes filling with tears once more. What happened to him? Why was he not talking to her? Something was wrong, it didn't take a genius to figure that out. She felt her insides churning. Her family was gone, her adopted family was gone, everyone was gone – except Rudy. Yes, Rudy was here, but in a way, he wasn't. It was as if a piece of him had been left behind under the house, somewhere among the shocked pajamas and torn faces.

Rudy Steiner's eyes seemed to flicker into focus, but he still refused to believe that Liesel was there. "Liesel," he whispered, his hand reaching out and stroking her cheek. She seemed so real. He could even touch her…

A watery tear made a mud track down her face and across Rudy's finger that was still on her cheek. "Rudy, I'm here," She said a little louder. "Rudy, please!" She shook his hands, but he didn't move. He was stiff and unresponsive. "Saukerl!" She spat angrily, shaking him harder, more tears streaming down her face. Rudy's hand slid down from her face and back into his lap.

One of the LSE men came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned, her eyes red and puffy, and looked at him desperately. "Come on, darling, he's in shock, too. You will both be fine."

Nodding slowly, she got up, turning on her heel and facing the empty street. Well, what seemed to be an empty street. It was lifeless and destroyed, nothing surviving but two children who had lived directly across from each other. "Hey, I think we've got everyone that survived. Only those two…" Nobody else surviving… "Alright, let's pack the two up and go!" Papa… "We need to finish getting the bodies."

Eventually, the men came, and one of them scooped her up. Rudy was on a stretcher, and they were both placed in the back of the same car. Liesel did not scream. She watched silently as the men picked up her parents and placed blankets over them, putting them in another car. "Liesel…" With tears still falling onto her lap, Liesel turned at the sound of Rudy's weak voice. "Sagen Sie mir bitte, dass es ein Traum ist. Please, tell me it is a dream, Liesel."

She bit her lip hard, blood dripping onto her tongue. Her brown eyes softened, still wet with tears. She didn't have the heart to answer. She wished it was a dream, she really did. But it was not. They were awake, despite the nightmare going on around them. It had finally come to the point where dreams were more of figments than they were before, and nightmares finally found their way out of the mind and explored the world around. But the thing about nightmares? They were still nightmares. And what do nightmares do? They scare you.

End Chapter