In opstand Page 3

  “She got into an accident. A car hit her and...”

  She stopped talking when he barked out a curt laugh. He took a step closer and noticed she retreated until her back hit the wall. “You really have no clue, do you?”

  Emma shook her head. Again, her blonde curls danced when she made that movement. Uriah had to force his eyes away from her hair. He was standing so close now that he could almost count the freckles on her nose. “You want answers?”

  “I – yes, of course.”

  “You think you can shut your hole long enough to listen to what I have to say?”

  She nodded.

  He sighed. “We can’t talk here. I hope you can find it in you to trust a Jew enough and come with me…”

  “Come with you? And go where?” The distrustful look in her eyes returned.

  “Can’t tell. I’m afraid I’ll have to blindfold you.”

  “No!” She raised her hands to protect herself as though he’d just drawn a knife.

  Uriah pulled a black cloth from his pocket. “Don’t be a coward. You said you wanted answers, didn’t you?”

  “Did – did you put a blindfold on Sophia too?”

  He grinned. “Only in the beginning.”

  Emma remained quiet when he put the blindfold over her eyes and steered her away from the mansion through a labyrinth of dark alleys and isolated, narrow streets.

  After Uriah looked around carefully, they left the built-up area, their surroundings abruptly blending from paved streets lined by well-to-do family houses into barren land. The canal stopped and gave way to the entrance to a sewer. No houses were visible here – just heaps of earth, garbage, and discarded equipment and machinery. Uriah was once told that the soil contained harmful chemicals, stopping even the most resistant weeds from growing there.

  A few yards further down, the Fence stretched out as far as the eye could see. In the silence hovering over the disused industrial park he could clearly hear the ticking of the electric barrier.

  These barricades had been designed to keep scum like him out. Whoever tried to crawl through a wide-enough crack between the tightly stretched iron cables was hit with a ten-thousand volt electric shock. So no one tried anymore – the rats rather stayed down in the sewer pipes, choosing starvation over electrocution. Uriah stopped Emma before she ran into the barrier. The hole in the sand was hidden from view by the remains of a large truck once used to transport food rations, but it was now nothing more than a hulking, rusty wreck.

  “Squat down,” he commanded her. “Crawl straight ahead without getting up until I tell you it’s safe. Under no circumstance do you lift your head, you understand? You’ll be dead before you know what hit you.”

  “I can hear the humming of the Fence,” the girl protested. “At least let me see what I’m doing!”

  “Don’t worry, just do as I say. Here you go.” He pushed her knees toward the ground and guided her hands toward the slope down. “The hole is deep enough to let you pass through safely. It’s only a few yards – you’ll be there before you know it. Now hurry up.”

  Maybe she wasn’t such a coward after all. Without further protest, she ducked down underneath the lowest iron cable, keeping her head low and feeling her way forward, using her hands like the feelers of a snail. Unfortunately, she was about as fast as a snail, too – and they did need to hurry up in case a patrol hit the abandoned industrial estate by chance – but in her blind state, she reached the other side without scorching a single hair on her head. Quickly, he followed suit. He’d made the crossing so many times that he managed to ban every thought of the lethal electricity above his head from his mind entirely.

  Uriah grabbed Emma’s hands and helped her up just as a low, humming sound penetrated the air above them, growing fast in intensity.

  “Shit,” he whispered. The patrol helicopter slowly circled the area and approached the Fence. The Swastika and Torch on the side door, insignia of the Realm, were clearly visible from the ground. There was nowhere to hide – this side of the Fence was completely deserted. No rusty cars or small hills of trash interrupted the flatness of the landscape.

  However, the Ghetto was near. Uriah hesitated for a beat, then removed Emma’s blindfold and made a break for the houses, still clasping her hand in his.

  “Uriah, what are you…”

  “Run!”

  She stumbled onward behind him, her feet not as used to the uneven terrain as his were, right until he pushed her flat against the wall of the first house they reached. The corrugated metal roof sticking out overhead shielded them from view. Emma was panting, her eyes wide with fear and exertion.

  “It’s okay. We’re safe,” Uriah said. “Come on, it’s not far from here.”

  “What was that?”

  “Patrol. Checking up on the rats to make sure they stay in their cage.”

  “What happens if they catch you outside the Ghetto?”

  He stared at her. Did she honestly not have a clue? “They’ll blow you to bits.”

  The blood drained from her face as though it was leaking out somehow. Did that mean she was about to faint? No way – he had to get her to The Star first. Only then would he be fully at ease again. “It’s only a couple more blocks.”

  She followed him without uttering a single word, past the run-down shops where people could get surrogate coffee and tasteless bread for two coupons. His stomach groaned. He hadn’t had any food for a while. Elizabeth managed the food stocks, but supply to Ghetto South had been on the slow side for a while now – about as speedy as that rusty truck withering away in the abandoned industrial park.

  Their building reminded him of a sunken ship from the outside. The boarded-up windows stopped inquisitive eyes from looking inside, and the bricks were covered in green graffiti. Even the walls had sagged into the soil over the years and no one could stop the slow process of decay. Five years ago, the house had been officially declared unfit for habitation. Of course, his friends hadn’t minded the official warning, and to Uriah, this was his home. It didn’t matter that the entire house smelled of mold and the floorboards squeaked everywhere you went.

  He glanced sideways to gauge Emma’s reaction. It was obvious what she was thinking.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said.

  “Is this where Sophia used to visit you?” she whispered. “And Frieda Groonewald?”

  He scoffed. “Yeah, right, Groonewald. With her fancy shoes.” He chuckled at the thought, then rapped a quick rhythm on the door with his knuckles.

  It took a while before the door was opened to a crack, revealing a narrow face looking down on them. Uriah forced himself to smile. “Elizabeth, my darling, please open up.”

  He knew this tone of voice would usually get Elizabeth all riled up, but the presence of the girl next to him immediately distracted her. Her mouth opened in quiet surprise as she swung the door open wider and revealed the dimly-lit hallway, paint peeling off the walls. Uriah gestured for Emma to get inside. When Elizabeth just stood there and stared at them, he decided to close the door himself.

  “My God – Sophia!”

  “It’s not her.” He put his hands on Emma’s shoulders and smiled. “This is Emma, Sophia’s twin sister. You girls were twins, right?”

  Emma nodded.

  “What? But I...” Elizabeth seemed confused. Maybe she thought he was pulling her leg. “I didn’t know she even had a sister.”

  “And yet, she’s here with us. Emma, please let’s go upstairs – this hallway isn’t the nicest place to have a decent conversation.” He pulled her along and up the stairs. The steps were too narrow for him to put down more than the balls of his feet, so Uriah always kept one hand on the banister on his way up.

  Once, the room they entered had been stately, featuring a high ceiling and tall windows, but the windows had long since been boarded up and no
longer let the sunlight in. Elizabeth, who’d followed them up, switched on the energy-saving light.

  Uriah pointed to one of the two couches in the corner. Emma’s eyes drifted through the room, and her gaze suddenly made him painfully aware of the miserable state that the whole house was in. This girl lived within the Fence, and she thought it was completely normal to have running water from the tap, to have central heating at the flick of a switch. It was a fairytale world. And the couch he’d pointed her toward was sagging in the middle. Granted, a fairly clean sofa cover was trying its best to brighten up the old piece of furniture, but even the cover was frayed and faded. Uriah shrugged uneasily. “Or just stand if you don’t want to sit down.”

  “No, it’s – fine.” She settled into the corner, her knees awkwardly squeezed together.

  Elizabeth pressed her thin lips into an even thinner line. “How do we know we can trust her?”

  “I found her at Groonewald’s mansion.”

  “So? And why isn’t she wearing a blindfold?”

  “We had to run,” he replied impatiently. “She’d have broken a leg if she’d kept the blindfold on. And by the way, she’s sitting right in front of you. Why don’t you direct your questions to her?”

  “I just want answers,” Emma told her before Elizabeth could launch more protests. “That’s why I was looking for Ms. Groonewald. Sophia never said a word to me about this, but I – I’d honestly never betray her friends. Ever.”

  Elizabeth fell quiet for a while. “Not everybody loved her,” she then pointed out.

  Uriah felt his skin prickle uncomfortably. Emma may not have picked up on the unvoiced question in her words, but he knew Elizabeth well enough to know what she was thinking. Had Sophia been betrayed by her own sister? No, he didn’t buy it.

  “You believe she was killed,” Emma whispered almost inaudibly.

  “Of course she was.” Elizabeth was merciless. “She was supposed to deliver a simple message. We could have turned the tide if only the Red Messenger had managed to do what she was supposed to. She should have known better.”

  “Enough.” Uriah swallowed a curse when he saw Emma’s eyes well up with tears. “What’s your problem, Elizabeth? Emma lost her sister.”

  “And we lost our best chance.” The woman crossed her arms in front of her chest and pulled a face that Uriah knew only too well. Once Elizabeth got something into her head, she wouldn’t yield. Not even if the whole HNA showed up on her doorstep.

  “I found the message.” Emma dug up a folded piece of paper from her bag. “At least, I think I did. Her coat was taken to the dry cleaners after her death. And this was still in her pocket.”

  Uriah held his breath as she folded it open. It was a scrunched-up piece of paper, too tiny to contain a proper letter.

  “It’s Frieda Groonewald’s address. And underneath, it says something strange.” Emma cleared her throat. “The angel has arrived. We have prepared a table before him.”

  “The Angel! That means we can still go ahead!” At once, Elizabeth seemed to forget about her reticence. Her eyes started to shine and her hands gestured excitedly. “Emma can do it for us!”

  “What’s it mean? And what can I do?”

  “She means to say you can finish what Sophia started.” Uriah lowered himself onto the armrest of the couch. “It’s pretty revolutionary, though.”

  “Pretty revolutionary? We’re talking about the revolution!” Elizabeth barked heatedly. “If he – if the Angel sticks to his promise, then...”

  “Elizabeth, slow down.” Uriah fixed his gaze on Emma’s face. The girl was still as white as a sheet. Her hands, clasped stiffly together in her lap, were shaking. “If he does what he’s promised us, it’s an opening – a start. Nothing more. Besides, Emma may look like Sophia, but that doesn’t mean she’s just like her.”

  “I can do whatever it was Sophia was doing!” Emma’s objection was unexpectedly tart. She even blushed with indignation. “Who is this Angel? What’s the plan? Tell me everything!”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes, everything, damn it! What did my sister die for?”

  “Okay, fine. You have a point.” Uriah put his feet up on the couch seat. “Sophia was working for us these past three years. It wasn’t always easy, but she had her ways. She could get to places that were inaccessible to us.”

  “Such as Ms. Groonewald’s house?” Emma whispered.

  Uriah nodded. “We called her the Red Messenger. It was easy to recognize her by that coat of hers. Sophia was our link to the world outside the Ghettos, Emma. She believed… wait, I’ll show you, not tell you.” Uriah got up and opened the cabinet next to the sofa to get out an old, beat-up tablet, the display covered in fingerprints. “A gift from your sister. She thought we could do a better job with at least one functioning internet connection.”

  “You have internet here?”

  “We can pick up the wireless signal,” Elizabeth replied. “So far, the Realm hasn’t been smart enough to fence off the air above our Ghettos yet.”

  “Even a rich kid like you must know some things about the SIDR,” Uriah mumbled, handing Emma the tablet. The photos it contained were of poor quality. They’d never make it into the glossy magazines distributed by the Realm. The shots were taken illegally, by journalists who’d been convinced by Sophia to give some of the images to The Star. In some cases, their Freedom Fighters had even been approached by journalists themselves. “This is what we’re fighting against. Sophia believed with all her heart in destroying the Institute.”

  Emma flicked through the pictures without saying a word. Uriah caught himself holding his breath anxiously. What was she thinking, what did she see? Would she chuck the tablet aside and accuse them of feeding her lies?

  “They look so sick.” The first words she whispered after looking at the photos.

  “That’s because they are. Sick, tortured. There’s no fair food distribution system in place, and no meds available.”

  “But I saw children among them! I didn’t know – I thought…”

  “Children, grandchildren. Whole generations grow up in these camps without ever seeing the other side of the barbed wire fence, Emma.”

  The girl touched the screen. A pixelated photo of a toddler in a frayed T-shirt shifted to the left to make room for a middle-aged man, who looked very healthy compared to the weakened people in the SIDR. His eyes were bright and he was heavy-set – which meant he probably had more food to eat in one evening than Uriah had had in several days.

  “This man. Who is he?”

  “That’s our Angel,” Elizabeth revealed. “Franz Gabriel, Facility Designer and Technical Engineer of the Realm. If Sophia managed to reach out to him before she died, it would mean he’s come up with a way to obliterate the SIDR. Frieda Groonewald was going to take care of the rest, but now…” She sighed. “Now we’re just sitting around without the support of a rich benefactor, while Diederich Hoffmann is dead and the Realm is about to crumble.”

  “She’s dead,” Uriah clarified when he saw Emma’s puzzled face. “She was arrested and she never came back. Dead or in the SIDR, same difference.”

  “I know him,” Emma said. She looked up from the tablet, her gaze volleying between him and Elizabeth. “Franz Gabriel? I’ve seen him at parties.”

  A look passed between Uriah and Elizabeth. Just for a moment, he was willing to risk it all and trust her… “Listen up, Emma,” he mumbled, bending down to look at her from up close. “Are you brave enough to get to know Sophia better than ever before?”

  5

  Traitor of the Realm

  Emma

  THE bus taking her home wobbled on the uneven pavement of the road, shaking her up just like the jumbled thoughts going through her head. Emma wasn’t aware of the other passengers. In her mind, she could still see the images coming from the SIDR – the har
sh truth shown to her by Uriah and Elizabeth. Harsher than she ever thought was possible. Children looking like skeletons, women assaulted and undressed by horny soldiers carrying cruel guns, and broken, hunched-over men in shackles, chained together in a never-ending, shuffling line of misery. Shacks not much bigger than her own bedroom which housed at least fifty prisoners each. And the worst thing of all – a cold and bare room with stone walls, containing corpses of babies. Ready to be cast into the incinerator fire.

  Emma squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath just to stop herself from crying out. She pressed her brow against the cold bus window, counting the bumps in the road. Just a few more minutes and they’d reach the safety of the Fence once more.

  The people treated as cattle in the SIDR weren’t just Jews. She’d seen Brits and Americans, descendants of the insurgents during the war, and rich people, young, old – traitors and their family members. Everybody had been tossed onto a giant heap indiscriminately, to be shipped off into oblivion and concealed from the eyes of the world forever. The eyes of all the people behind the safe Fences living an easy life.

  Concealed from her gaze, as well.

  And Sophia had known.

  Emma could still hear Uriah’s voice in her ear. He’d talked to her as she’d sat there, paralyzed and cold with sheer horror on the inside after looking at the photos on the tablet still lying in her limp hands. He’d supported her hand so she wouldn’t drop the device while looking at the pictures – he’d stopped her from averting her eyes from the truth. And then he’d told her about doing the same thing three years ago with Sophia, causing her to break down in tears.

  Oh, Sis. I didn’t know. And you were all alone.

  And now she was dead. Murdered.

  Damn it! Why couldn’t this bus just hurry up? She was about to snap in two. Emma wanted to hide her face in a pillow and shriek at the top of her voice. She wanted to pick up something and throw it at the wall. She wanted to shout her horrible discovery from the rooftops.