OP-DEC: Operation Deceit

Chapter 28

Claire woke to the dim light of the dangling lamp flickering on and off. The pervading silence was worse than the horror of the bombs. She pushed herself up from where she lay on the cot, feeling a weight about her waist and every sore muscle in her back. Beside her, Carsten lay still dreaming on his side, his arm the weight against her. Claire stared in disbelief for a few moments. Her robe hung loosely and she feared what may have happened while she was unconscious. The light flickered on again and stayed lit.

"Mr. Reiniger," Claire whispered, wide-eyed.

Carsten woke, drew a deep breath through his nose and rolled onto his back. Claire sat up and fixed her robe, hoping his eyes would remain closed. Her gaze went to the rest of the room, panicking when she remembered they weren't alone. Everyone still slept except them.

"Guten Morgen," Carsten mumbled, trying to get comfortable again.

Claire froze as his other arm flopped over her lap. She nervously eyed him, but he was intent on going back to sleep. He lay there, somehow more threatening than when he was awake, and Claire slid away from him, determined to find another place to sit before her aunt awoke to see such a scene. But when his hand slipped down her thigh, she froze. Loud banging vibrated through the roof, and she panicked. Dust fell from the arch above them as the lamp swung gently on its sagging cord.

Carsten immediately lifted his hand. He rolled over, twisting at the waist to see the entrance of the shelter. His eyes searched hurriedly while he listened.

"That's not bombs," he whispered.

The others in the shelter stirred awake upon hearing the noises coming from outside. Carsten jumped up and crossed the room in seconds. The dutiful butler joined him. Carsten pressed his ear to the hatch.

"What's going on?" Aunt asked with a yawn, surprisingly calm.

The elderly butler prattled in Teutonic tones to Carsten about something.

Claire got to her feet and limped to Aunt's bunk, curling up beside her for comfort. She thought she heard muffled voices and didn't care whose they were as long as they got out of that awful crypt. Aunt forgivingly kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tight.

"Workers," Carsten said. "Clearing debris," he added facing them. "I think we may be here a while."

"I thought these things were supposed to be safe," Aunt snapped.

"They are," Carsten said. "The house was not."

Aunt trembled with fear. Claire wrapped her arms about the woman's ample middle and put her head on her shoulder. Aunt placed a loving hand on her back and patted her.

"It's gonna be all right," Aunt said, more for herself than her niece. "Just have to wait."

Carsten pulled the lever on the door. Beyond the opening, the scene was a matchbox overturned. Beams and mortar had crashed down under the force of a hit, and a sliver of light lit a pool of water that had trickled down from broken pipes and collected on the floor. The uppermost parts of the mess were blackened to char; the smell of smoke billowed into the room. Carsten shut the door, but didn't lock it. He stepped back with an enigmatic scowl on his face.

"What is it?" Aunt asked.

The butler muttered, shaking his head regretfully at the closed hatch door.

"They know we are here," Carsten said. "Just give them time to clear a path."

"What do you mean?" Aunt cried.