Dangerous Territory

The Sound of a Single Shot

It was early evening, and most of the Jews were back in their cells after a day of slaving away around the Nazi camp. With just one oil lantern, the place was dark enough to close one's eyes and sleep. Levi got what rest he could, lying on his cot with his eyes shut as his mind drifted.

He thought about a vineyard he had visited in his teens. He supposed that was his happy place. He remembered the sun and the smell, the rows of grapevines, the flowered gardens, and the taste of wine. How long had it been since he had good wine?

He was doing anything he could to take his mind off the lingering pain in his buttocks. Two weeks since the attack in the lavatory, and it still hurt to poop. His back still had some scabs from the whipping, but they only hurt if he had to bend over or in any way stretched his back.

He could handle all the pain and hunger if he remembered that vineyard and how beautiful France had been before the war.

He opened his eyes as he heard the door above creak open, and he scowled. That idiot lieutenant, visiting so often! Eren was going to get into trouble, or even worse, he would get him into trouble.

As much as Levi enjoyed the company and liked knowing he had at least one Nazi on his side, he was pragmatic. They were enemies; friendship was out of the question. That made it hard to convince himself not to feel a leap in his chest every time military boots stomped down the staircase.

He also hated how disappointed he felt when it was not the fresh-faced lieutenant with teal eyes, but another man who had begun to visit them late at night.

The Obergefreiter had introduced himself early on as Marlo Freudenberg, but due to his haircut, the Jews had taken to nicknaming him "Coupe Au Bol," or Bowl Cut.

Two ladies giggled together as they watched him enter. "Ce coupe au bol est un crime contre les cheveux." That bowl cut is a crime against hair.

Marlo smiled at seeing the ladies gazing at him, unaware of the meaning behind their words. He walked over to their cell with a wicker basket on his arm.

"Guten Abend, meine Damen." Good evening, my ladies. He gave them what he hoped was a suave bow, and the ladies tittered.

Levi rolled his eyes. Another idiot! At least this one attempted to flirt instead of merely raping the ladies.

"Ich bringe Brot." I brought bread.

This was the only good thing about this idiot soldier. He had started off bringing only the ladies whatever treats he could hide in his pockets. Seeing that they felt bad eating when others had nothing, he tried to bring enough for everyone. For three days now, he had brought a basket of bread after roll call, allowing the Jews to split the food between themselves while he talked to the ladies.

He chatted away. Sometimes, he tossed in a horrible attempt at French, probably something the local baker told him to say, which he half-forgot.

"Tes aïeux sont rougissantes."

The whole dungeon burst into peals of laughter, and even Levi snorted and shook his head. Obviously, he had meant to say tes yeux sont ravissantes, "your eyes are ravishing," but instead he ended up saying your forefathers are blushing.

Levi heard a noise above him, and his eyes flicked up. Boots? Marlo was talking too loudly, and that laughter had been raucous. He worried if they had drawn unwanted attention.

It was a few more minutes before Marlo stood up, reached through the bars to lift the hand of one of the ladies, and gave it a debonair kiss. The woman turned her face away and fanned herself in fake bashfulness, telling the others, "The Bowl Cut must think I'm a fruit to place in his bowl."