Schatzi

42

Peter rolled over in his sleep, trying to block out the loud bangs and crashes that were worming their way into his dreams. He wanted to sleep in peace, the images of  bright days in the sun with light spring showers and daisies blowing in the wind uninterrupted by gunfire.

Gunfire?

He sat up groggily, his head spinning the moment he opened his eyes. He felt weaker everyday.

But gunfire...why was there gunfire?

The camp had been relatively quiet since they took most of the healthy prisoners away on a march days ago. The remaining inmates had been too weak to try anything and so for the majority of the time the guards had not fired at them. There was still the occasional case of cold blooded murder when they got bored but it had been quiet.

Nothing like this.

This was insistent...and close. Very close. He could hear shouts and screams mixed in with the shots which seemed to be coming from all different directions. That didn't sound like a bunch of guards picking on a sole inmate.

That sounded like a battle.

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Eli didn't know how long he'd been on the train but he knew it must have been days. It felt like they'd been stopped for a while as well as there'd been no loud clanking keeping him awake for the last few hours at least. The train had hissed to a stop and then there was a row outside and then nothing. It was pitch black inside the carriage and no one made any noise. He could feel things around him but he didn't even want to think about what he was touching. He'd tried to stand and move at one point but he was dehydrated and dizzy and had had to sit down immediately, and the feeling of stepping on what felt awfully like a person hadn't made him feel any less sick.

He wasn't sure who was alive, let alone where people were. He'd lost contact with his mother when they pushed them onto the train at the last minute before it left, and the crowd inside had pulled them apart from each other. The journey over had been too dark and dingy for them to find each other after that.

"Mum?"

His shaky voice broke the silence.

There was no reply.

"Mum?"

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"Jens! Jens, wake up!"

Peter shook his friend firmly, holding onto his shoulder with one hand and supporting himself from the bed frame with the other.

"Wha- Pete..." Jens groaned, opening his eyes and staring up at Peter with a confused and slightly annoyed expression. "Le' me sleep," he mumbled, followed by something Peter couldn't make out except for the word 'die'.

"No, Jens, they're here. They're finally here!"

"Who's here?"

"The Americans, or the Russians, I can't see from here. The war and all that. They've got here! They're going to save us!"

"You sure?" Jens said, finally perking up a little. It was the first time Peter had seen even a glimpse of hope in those glazed green eyes.