painted white, sarajevo

XIV

Deep into the night, Elias went outside again.

The streets twinkled, the dull wisps of lights falling on the ground. Elias' shadow fell over them, silencing the flickering of lights. He walked slowly, careful not to disturb the stillness of the night.

The main street was void of people aside from the old woman that hobbled down next to the building. He allowed his gaze to jump from side to side before landing on the work area. Elias noticed a small and yellow warning sign (most likely in Wistinburg's language) that hung from the gate.

Two workers lounged on the ground. Elias couldn't hear their conversation from where he was.

Walking up to the fence, he hooked his foot into the wire, using it to pull himself over. He was careful with his landing, his shoes making a light thump as he hit the ground.

He could see the SPASA entrance from where he was, but he would have to get into the shadows before he could sneak down. He would have to remain completely and utterly silent the entire time.

There was something eerie about being alone, washed in the darkness of Wistinburg. His head throbbed in his chest, guilt starting to seep in his arteries and veins. Something beat in his ears. It was his heart. Sweat trembled down his neck.

Why am I doing this?

Safet, he told himself. Safet's story. Sarajevo's story.

"Get your head out of the clouds! There's no way you can save this place!"

August 13th, 1993.

The tunnel's helping.

People are starting to escape this city, this place of caged nightmares. They can reach safety on the other side.

But me?

I'm staying here with Vita.

Running away isn't the choice for me, and while I may be scared down to my bones, I refuse to leave the women and men of Sarajevo behind.

I had found Vita earlier today, caked in dust and nails the color of brown. She had explained that she had been down in the tunnel, helping others.

But now it's okay.

The tunnel is being used for transferring supplies, medicine, for escapes. I personally don't know anyone who has escaped, although many have left.

Its entrance is in a little house on the outskirts of the city. For now, none of the Serbians have taken notice of the people heading to the house.

The house doesn't look like anything that would be considered special: Bullet holes cover the cream of the wall; its balcony is close to breaking off. But it is our hope.

IT IS OUR SPASA.

Momo is thinking about going through it in hopes of escaping to unoccupied territory on the other side. I want to help him, but I'm afraid for him. There's snipers on both sides of the tunnel. They wait. You can feel them looking.

This is how strong the people of Sarajevo are.

Escape. While it is an act of a cowardice, it is also an act of courage. A paradox, no?

You have to be careful everywhere, even if you are underground. It's only when you're far, far away from the city of Sarajevo that you're safe.

- Safet Kapić

Workers had dug deeper into the entrance, and now there were no more boards—the boards that Emir had pried open for them were now gone. Instead, the stairs of the entrance were obvious for all to see.

Elias felt the flashlight inside his jacket. The cool touch of the flashlight calmed him, muffled the erratic beating of his heart. The chances of him being discovered while aiming a beam of light down the entrance were high. He had no other choice but to take first couple steps in the darkness.

There is another choice. You don't have to do this.

Forcing himself to take a step, Elias heaved one breath and descended the steps.

The wood creaked under him. He felt his foot brush something metal, hard and rigid.

It was only a few steps later, deeper underground, that he turned his flashlight on, sweeping the walls.

Crumbling bars of wood held up the walls on either side, musky and tan with years of dust and dirt. White wires wound around them, leading away, farther into the darkness of the ground.

Elias lifted his flashlight to glance down the tunnel. Underneath his feet, bars of wood interlocked together to form boards. It was uneven everywhere, with clumps of dirt sticking up in certain places where the wood didn't exist anymore. Metal ran along the sides, creating rails. Scratched into one of the walls was the word that he was looking for: SPASA.

Elias coughed, dirt sticking to his lungs. At the sudden exhale of breath, the air seemed to quiver around him. He walked forward again, lingering, letting his feet ghost over the uneven floorboards.

Was this used in the siege of Sarajevo? Did Safet ever talk about this? When was this created? Was this a secret to Sarajevo's citizens?

Something splintered underneath his feet. "Whoa!"

The old wood cracked under his feet, and Elias only had a moment to dance back.

This isn't safe.

There was the thud of footsteps overhead. A clump of dirt fell from the ceiling and nearly hit his head, falling to the ground. Elias watched it pile over the boards, his thumb just about ready to switch off his flashlight.

I'm not supposed to be here.

With slow, frozen movements, he shifted towards the stairs again, crouching so that he could reduce his height. It took a bit of difficulty to go up the steps, but once he was outside, cool air replacing the old and historic taste on his tongue, Elias shifted to land on all fours.

There were still two workers there, but now they were separate. One worked near the fence surrounding the area, while the other was...doing whatever he was doing.

Once he reached the fence, Elias balanced himself carefully, about—

"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

While the voice broke through his thoughts, Elias hopped over the fence without hesitation, letting his feet land with a crackle and took off running, no signs of looking back. He ran until he couldn't hear his own breaths anymore, only the pounding of his feet against the ground. There was the call of footsteps behind him only for about a minute, but he was too frightened to look back.

Breaths heaved through his chest, throat parched and dry. Elias peeked around the corner, one hand pressed to his chest where the pulsing organ lay, beating crazily, beating without hesitation, unable to slow down.

The streets were clear, so Elias stepped out, letting out a cough.

I can relax. I'm safe now.

Tilting his head towards the sky, he noticed that it was clear—clearer than he had ever seen it before, with only a few clouds floating across the canvas of the night.

"Huh... It's almost as if it's tellin' me that something's out of place," Elias murmured.