The Enemy Above

by Michael P. Spradlin

  After another seventy-five meters, they came to a fork in the passageway.

  “Which way?” Anton asked. He shone the light down both paths but it revealed nothing of promise in either direction.

  “Let’s go to the right. But since we’ll have to come back and explore the other direction anyway, it really makes no difference,” Daniel said.

  They headed to the right and followed the passage for several meters, marking their way and keeping track of the time. Twenty-five minutes had passed. As they walked farther down the tunnel, Anton observed that the cave was growing damper.

  “Look,” he said, rubbing his fingers over the slick rock walls. “Water. I wonder where it is coming from?”

  “It could be water seeping in from the ground above,” Daniel said.

  “Perhaps,” Anton said. But he was excited at the prospect. It might be a spring. Or perhaps they might find an underground creek.

  Anton stopped at the driest spot he could find and marked the wall with an arrow. A few meters farther on, the passage narrowed and they had to walk single file. Then it narrowed further, so they had to turn sideways to move forward.

  “Perhaps we should turn back,” Daniel suggested. “I would much prefer it. Turning back would be good, I think.”

  Anton tried not to chuckle at Daniel’s discomfort, but it was difficult. And with the walls as wet as they were, Anton thought giving up now would be a mistake. They could be close to a water source that would solve their problems! “Why don’t I go just a little bit farther. If I don’t find anything, we’ll head back.”

  Daniel was about to agree when a noise stopped him in his tracks.

  “Do you hear that?” Anton asked.

  “What is it?”

  “Water dripping, I think. It’s coming from up ahead. I have to find out for sure.”

  “But the passage is too narrow,” Daniel said.

  “I think I can make it.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea, Anton.”

  “Don’t worry. It will be fine. You wait here. Keep an eye on the watch. I will try to make it as far as I can. Call out to me in fifteen minutes. If I haven’t found anything by then, I’ll come back.”

  Anton knew Daniel did not approve, but he couldn’t let that bother him now. They needed water to live. The ceiling was so low he needed to drop to his hands and knees. He began to crawl, and soon Daniel was out of sight.

  As Anton scurried along, the sound of the water grew to a steady drip. Now both the walls and floor of the cave were covered in moisture. And the water had to be coming from somewhere. Anton pushed ahead, and as the passageway opened back up, he hopped back to his feet, which were soaked. The water was two or three centimeters deep.

  Drip. Drip. Drip. Anton pointed the flashlight upward and saw where the water was coming from. His heart sank. The ceiling above him was a collection of small rocks and boulders held in place by mud and dirt. Water from the recent rains had worked its way in between the rocks and dripped into the cave from above. There was no spring here, no creek. Anton shone the light over the rocks, wondering if their group could collect enough water here to satisfy their needs. Not a chance, he thought. Even if they could manage to get their buckets through the narrow tunnel, they’d never fill them fast enough. It had been raining the past few days, and this runoff from the storms wouldn’t last a day.

  “Anton!” Daniel’s shout startled him. Anton had forgotten all about the time. He could hear how anxious his friend was.

  “It has been fifteen minutes! Are you all right?” Daniel’s voice echoed off the cave walls.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Anton said. “I’ll be back with you in a moment.”

  But first, he had to do one more thing. Their mission was to find a water source. But they were also supposed to be looking for an exit. He reached up to one of the boulders above him and pushed. At first, nothing happened.

  But then he heard the sound of rock sliding on rock. The boulder came loose from the ceiling and nearly fell on top of him! With all his strength, Anton pushed it aside. But once one was dislodged, the others came crashing down. “Dan—”

  He could not get the words out of his mouth before another large rock fell from the ceiling and slammed into his shoulder, driving him to his knees. And that was just the beginning. Rock after rock pelted every part of his body. He tried to shout in alarm, but the words caught in his throat. His flashlight was knocked from his hand and it skittered away, leaving him in darkness.

  This was bad. Very bad. Uncle Dmitri would never trust him with responsibility again. The crush of that realization seemed more than Anton could bear. And then a rock the size of a melon grazed the side of his head.

  He remembered nothing else.

  Major Von Duesen stood in the back of the half-track, his eyes roaming the countryside. It was nearing midnight and the waxing crescent moon gave off just enough light that they could run the vehicle without headlights. The engine did make some noise, but the darkness still gave them a small advantage over their quarry. Light traveled farther than sound. Those they hunted would not hear the engine until the Germans were too close for them to escape.

  Von Duesen was frustrated. He knew there were Jews hiding in the area, but they had gone to ground. And they had hidden themselves well. For the last three nights he had returned from patrol empty-handed. But the Reich’s extensive records showed that there were still a number of people unaccounted for.

  At first, he was certain that sympathizers were hiding the remaining Jewish families. But he and his squad had searched dozens of farmhouses, shops, and even the homes of gentiles he suspected of defying the Reich by hiding Jews from the gestapo. Each time he had come up empty.

  There had been rumors. He had heard whispers from his informants that a large group of Jews was hidden somewhere near the small village of Borta. Each night, he and his men would search the tiny hamlet, then work outward, circling like a shark around a reef. Yet they continually failed to find their prey.

  Tonight he had taken a different approach. The day had begun the same as those before. His team searched the obvious hiding places: abandoned barns, a deserted church, farms owned by suspected sympathizers. But none of them were hiding Jews.

  Karl had always assumed that fear of the gestapo would force the Juden to make mistakes. They might cower in their hiding places now, but soon they would crack. And his unit would be waiting to catch them. As the führer had taught his followers, Jews were feeble and slow-witted. Unworthy of standing in the shadow of the master race. Major Von Duesen would not allow the travesty of their evasion to continue. But where were they?

  All day he had studied the map and surveillance photos of the surrounding area. The map was five years old, but it was the most recent one of the area they could find. It did not include some of the newer farms, but it marked all the roads and rivers. He had pored over it in recent days, memorizing every field, every pond. What was he missing?

  “Water,” he murmured. A thought had suddenly occurred to him.

  “Was, mein major?” his sergeant asked.

  Von Duesen did not answer immediately. He was thinking. If the Jews had been hidden by a gentile farmer, they’d have had access to a well. But anyone who didn’t have that kind of help—anyone hiding out in the wilderness of the countryside—they would need to be near a lake, stream, or spring. These Jews might have been able to stash enough food to stay alive for weeks or months in their hiding place. But they could not live without water.

  “Halten,” he ordered. The private driving the half-track braked to a stop. Von Duesen pulled a map from his pocket. He jumped out, spread open the map on the hood of the vehicle, and switched on his flashlight. The three other men of his squad crowded around him.

  He found the village of Borta. It was logical to assume that those in hiding would remain close to the village. Even if they had stores of food, they would eventually run out. The closer they were to places where they knew they migh
t replenish their supplies, the less time they would have to be out in the open where they might be caught. They knew this area. Why flee to the unfamiliar?

  Von Duesen’s finger traced over the wrinkled paper. North of the village was a small stream. It was isolated. There were some open fields and farmlands around it, but the stream itself ran through a wooded area that would provide good cover. There were no houses close by, and so it was unlikely that anyone creeping along that part of the stream would be spotted. The Jews must be hiding somewhere within walking distance of this place!

  “Beeilen Sie sich!” he said to his men. Hurry.

  They scrambled back into the half-track and turned it around. Von Duesen’s driver went as fast as he dared with the headlights off. The vehicle bounced over the rough terrain. If they were not careful they could overturn. But in Von Duesen’s mind there was no time to waste. When they emerged from the fields and turned onto a dirt road, the major finally exhaled.

  A half hour later, they had reached their destination. Von Duesen ordered his men to take up their weapons.

  “Schnell! Schnell!” he hissed. Fast. We must be fast, he thought. He was sure he would find what he was looking for here. His men grabbed their machine guns and followed him toward the trees at a brisk trot. Von Duesen’s eyes scanned the horizon.

  “Halten Sie,” he whispered, holding his hand up in a fist. Hold.

  He’d seen something move in the trees ahead. Two men scurried through them carrying large milk cans mounted on a wooden staff between them. Their silhouettes were barely visible, but the longer he watched, the more sure he became. He had found the Jews he was looking for.

  Now Major Von Duesen had a decision to make. Should he take these men prisoner and interrogate them until they revealed where the others were concealed? Or should he follow them? If he tracked them back to their hiding place, he might capture the entire group. He had only a moment to decide before he lost the men in the darkness. Capturing a large number of Jews would surely win him favor with General Steuben. A medal for certain. Perhaps even a promotion. He could become the youngest lieutenant colonel in the gestapo.

  He motioned for his squad to follow and they quietly shadowed the two men. For now, he would trail them. It was the easier of the two options. But if they noticed, he would capture them, question them, and break them. They would reveal the location of their camp. He smiled in the darkness.

  No matter what happened, Major Karl Von Duesen of the gestapo would not return to headquarters tonight empty-handed.

  “Anton! Anton!” He heard his name shouted from a far-off place. He wanted to open his eyes but could not. Something was wrong with them. He felt as if an enormous weight was pressing down on his eyelids. And even when he managed to pry them open, his world was still shrouded in darkness.

  “Anton!” the voice cried out again.

  Slowly, his memory returned. The voice belonged to Daniel. Uncle Dmitri had sent them to explore the cave’s tunnels. And he had thought he might have found a back way out of the cave. And then the rocks fell. Though his head ached, he was glad he could remember what had happened. It must mean he was not terribly injured.

  “Anton!” Daniel called again.

  Anton tried to answer but his voice was an awkward croak. His mouth and throat were clogged with dust. When he coughed, pain shot through his ribs and head. The weight of the fallen rocks pressed down on top of him, holding him immobile.

  “I’m here,” he moaned.

  “Are you injured?”

  “I don’t … maybe … my ribs … I don’t know for sure,” he said.

  “Can you move?”

  Feeling was slowly returning to Anton’s extremities; he didn’t think anything was broken, but his ribs hurt and his head was pounding. He tried moving his legs and arms. Nothing budged. He was completely pinned beneath the stones. He coughed to clear his throat of the dust and mud.

  “I don’t think so. The rocks are too heavy.”

  “Hold on!”

  Daniel grunted and Anton heard the grinding sound of rocks sliding against one another above him. He tried again to move his legs and arms, but they were still stuck.

  “Can you move now?” Daniel asked. Anton could tell that his friend was frightened.

  “Daniel, I don’t think I’m seriously injured. Be careful that you do not hurt yourself. These rocks could still shift. I don’t want you to get trapped, too.”

  Daniel did not answer. Anton could hear him straining as he struggled to move the stones between them. As the minutes passed, the ache in Anton’s ribs worsened and he could only take short, shallow breaths.

  “Anton, the rocks are too big for me lift by myself. I’m going to have to go back for help.”

  The thought scared Anton. He would be left alone in the dark and unable to move. Yet he could think of no other option. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, but the ache in his lungs made tranquility impossible. “Please hurry.”

  As Daniel scurried away, the sound of his footsteps faded into what felt like impenetrable silence.

  But once Anton got used to the solitude, he began to notice things he would normally overlook. The drip of water on stone. The squish of mud beneath his legs. Rustle. Swish. Flap. He was not alone after all. He was sure he heard the skittering claws of a rat moving over the rocks above. Anton tried to remain calm, but the fact that he could not move terrified him.

  He lurched his chest upward as hard as he could, straining to push the rocks off him, but it was no use. He would not be able to move without help. If the spot he had discovered, where the rocks had fallen, was a way to the surface, then rats and mice and snakes and all manner of creatures would use it to enter and leave the cave.

  Something chirped in the darkness. Skree! Skree! He recognized the rat’s call. They were plentiful in the granary and barn at home. Ordinarily, he would not give a rat a second thought. He’d set a trap or rely on the barn cat they had to keep the rats under control. But this was different.

  Here he was flat on his back. If the rat had friends—which they usually did—they could make a meal of Anton at their leisure. Perhaps if he lay completely still, if he controlled his breathing, they would leave him alone.

  Yet the more he attempted to remain calm, the more nervous he became. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He wished more than anything for a light so he could see his enemy before it attacked.

  Skree, skree, skree, came the sound again. The rat was creeping closer.

  “Stop!” Anton hissed. His voice was quickly swallowed up in echoes off the thick stone walls.

  Skree, the rat replied. Anton wanted to shout, but he did not dare. What if a platoon of Nazis was patrolling above? No, he must be brave. It was only a rat, after all. It was not the gestapo. It was just a rat.

  He pushed against the rocks that pinned down his feet, and somehow one of them actually moved! It was only a small crack, but to Anton it may as well have been an open door. The mud must have settled and freed some space. Working his right foot back and forth, he pushed again at the small boulder and moved it a little farther. Another push and the rock rolled off his foot. The lower half of his leg was free! Anton felt as if he had won a gold medal. Rock pushing was not an Olympic sport, but if it were, Anton would be the champion!

  He placed his right foot on the rock pinning his left foot and pushed again. But this boulder was bigger. It wouldn’t budge. He tried pressing his foot on the floor of the cave and pushing upward to see if he could slide the rocks off his upper body. The effort took every bit of energy he had. He strained and shoved, but nothing moved. He paused to catch his breath.

  Skree!

  He’d almost forgotten about the rat. At least his foot was now free. If the rat came close enough, he might be able to stomp it.

  Anton had no idea how much time had passed. Surely, Daniel was coming back with help by now. A dark thought entered Anton’s mind. What if Daniel had gotten lost? They had clearly marked the way, but Danie
l was anxious in the best of circumstances. What if his fear distracted him into taking a wrong turn?

  Skree. Skree.

  Enough of this, Daniel thought to himself. He ground his teeth, put his right foot against the boulder pinning his left leg, and heaved with all his might. Just as he was about to give up, he felt the boulder move just a few millimeters.

  “Yes!” he groaned.

  Skree. He did not think the rat was cheering his success.

  Taking a deep breath, he wedged his foot against the boulder again and shoved. The rock teetered for a moment, then rolled over. His left leg was free. It was cramped and shaking with exertion, but free.

  “Praise God!” he sighed.

  His upper body was still pinned. The rat was out there in the darkness somewhere. But he was winning. If only he could somehow get one of his arms free.

  Skree.

  “No, Mr. Rat,” Anton whispered. “You will not make a meal of me.”

  Suddenly, another noise startled him. It was coming from farther down the passage. Footsteps.

  “Anton! Anton!” Daniel called. “We are coming.”

  “It looks like you are outnumbered, Mr. Rat,” Anton whispered. He heard the rat scamper away.

  Von Duesen and his squad crept carefully through the woods. The men they followed were unaware of their presence. The milk cans they carried clanked and squeaked on the wooden rail they hung from, masking the sound of the Germans’ footsteps.

  The two men stopped and set the cans on the ground. Von Duesen threw his fist up in the air, his elbow bent at a right angle. His men instantly came to a halt, guns at the ready. They watched and waited. Von Duesen wondered whether his excitement was clouding his judgment. Could the Jews have spotted them? If so, they might try to flee the mighty gestapo.

  The major stood stock-still, he and his men statues in the darkness. The two Jews were about forty meters ahead. He heard them muttering softly, but could not hear well enough to understand what they were saying. In truth, it did not matter what they said. If they didn’t lead him straight to their camp, they would soon be talking directly to him. They would tell him everything they knew about all the remaining Jews in the area. Major Karl Von Duesen was very good at interrogating prisoners.