A Trapdoor To A Tale Of Sacrifice

Thump! Thump!

He had to hurry. To get there before they arrived. He shuddered at the very thought. Though he knew he could- after all, this was the shortest way back home- some doubt still lingered at the back of his mind. Thoughts overcame him: what was he going to do when he gets there? Was there enough time to run away? Even if there was, where else could they even go? This was home, for now.

It was late February, spring just on the heels of what had been a beautiful winter. "Maybe the weather will help me reach there faster," he thought. He ran as the world glided past him, not caring of how the trees lay leafless, swaying in the muddled chill of the wind. Whatever sunlight was left dappled and bent its way through the skeletal branches with the evening's dingy light.

He could not stop for their sake. He held his Cross as hard as he could, wishing that at that moment, maybe God will be on his side, for He had to know this is wrong.

He felt exhausted but powered on, just for the people that depended on him for their lives. With all the strength he could muster, he moved swiftly through the dense underbrush. The sleepless nights were taking a toll on him now, but the boy craned his neck from left to right, squinting his eyes, trying to stay awake.

Suddenly, before he could even wrap his mind around what was happening, his boot got tangled in a root, and he took a massive fall- rolling on a muddy incline for what felt like an eternity. The tumbling stopped, but the pain did not. Nevertheless, with only one thought on his mind of getting back in time, the boy stood up valiantly and kept moving.

His breathing was getting shallow and noisy, but the fear remained imminent. This fear had become a real living force that crept over him like some hungry beast- immobilizing him, his body, and his mind, holding them all captive. That did not matter, however. He had to hurry. To get there before they arrived.

He ran past the thorns that ripped through his windbreaker; he was sure there was blood seeping underneath, but it mattered not. The journey passed as a complete blur, not realizing until he saw the bright red color, striking and radiant even as the sunset down. There he took a breath of relief. "Almost there," he pondered out loud, "just a few more steps."

In front of him lay the off-white walls of the bungalow, dazzling stridently in what was left of the sun. On its side was that wretched tree which looked like a hideous witch, its gnarled limbs and black claws scratching the side of the rusty house serving as a warning and a threat to anyone who would dare to approach the magnificent house. However, that was not what he was looking for. For him, the most crucial structure lay behind the bungalow, in the form of a barn, painted bright red and towering over the bungalow and lacking the beauty of the former. Anyone from a mile away could see the entrance floor panels pulling up and the paint slowly peeling off the walls. The run-down barn was well overdue some form of repairment.

Ah, the barn. Even in its tattered state, it had become a sort of sanctuary for Aleksander. Ever since the renovations had been taking place at their bungalow- an after effect of the disastrous war- the small family had shifted into the barn next to them, only accessing the bungalow’s kitchen for meals. Aleksander didn’t seem to mind though. He felt more comfortable in the wooden walls of the barn house than some fancy house, and even as a child, found himself often visiting the place. They had adapted the place now, to suit their needs. Small rooms had been added on the upstairs floor for living purposes, with a room downstairs for safe keeping. That is one lesson they learned post the war- to have a safe place, unknown to the outside world lest attackers or looters came to ransack them. Another reason why Aleksander adored the barn was because, due to the new living situation, he also got to spend more time with his beloved horse, Neil. Aleksander had always been an animal lover, and was heartbroken when they had to give away all but one of their animals (Neil) to the soldiers, often for lower than what they deserved. All in all, the barn had become extremely valuable to the young boy, and just its sight gave Aleksander a momentary sense of peace amidst the urgency of the situation.

The damp, musky and exhausted boy ran inside the barn swiftly, not caring about how the door creaked as he made his way. It was now that he let himself think about the pain, dirt, and exhaustion. With jeans soaked in blood and the pinching pain shooting up his leg like fire, he cringed at the inevitable. The pain was exploding in his head, like a blinding whiteness.

"Aleksander, what happened!" his mother, Pola, asked nervously.

Aleksander raises his index finger, urgently pointing to the three girls behind them, "Mother, they are coming! You must hide them!".

"Go! Hide with them. You know where. There is a medical kit in the hiding spot; use it to treat your leg before it worsens. I must go clean up." she replied anxiously before hurrying upstairs.

Aleksander quickly rushes the three girls – who were relatively older than him – to the usual hiding spot. "Ah," he thinks sadly, "how many times have we done this that it has now become a routine.". Trying to brush aside his mountain of doubts, he hoped and prayed that the arrival would be nothing more than a regular food stop. Maybe he had misheard. He hoped he had, more for the sake of his parents and the girls than his own. Nevertheless, he knew hope would provide only temporary relief. He needed an alternative, a backup plan that would ensure their survival. After all, they too were humans, and didn't all humans deserve to live?

Just when he thought the pain in his leg would climax, it dissipated- like fog off some mysterious lake. The pain of the leg subsided, overcome by an even more significant threat. The threat of death. Death, a simple five-letter word that was sure to send a shiver down one's spine and fill their consciousness with over looming dread. Silently, he prayed that this would not be the end for him, for he was not in the slightest curiosity about what the afterlife had in store for him; instead, he wished to be free of the gloom of the present to experience the future. "God is with me. He will protect me," he decided. He had to be.

In the distance, he could hear his mother on the floor above, stomping on the uneven surface while she tried to mop away any proof of the existence of humanity in the barn. His father, Bartek, was there too, trying to help as much as possible, despite his broken ligament from the war. They were not going to give up that easily. They knew that this was their duty and also their only chance at survival.

Aleksander worked swiftly on his leg. Wrapping it up with a bandage before moving on to load the syringe his mother had mentioned would help kill any chances of an infection forming. He was prepared; after all, his mother had made sure that he would be. Though he still did not know much, he trusted his mother's word more than anything in the world. After all, being a doctor and fixing people her entire life, if she did not know, who would?

Bartek pleadingly said, "Aleksander, if things do not go as planned, you know what to do. Whatever happens, you must promise me that you will keep the others safe. I wish I could hug you one – ". However, before he could even finish his sentence, there was a piercing siren sound, almost like a trumpet but less festive, announcing their arrival. They could hear men shouting in the bungalow now approaching the barn’s side door which was lit up from the outside. Wide-eyed and scared, the three young girls started praying, repeating phrases that went over Aleksander's head. All he knew was that no matter what happened, it was his duty to protect them. He knew he would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to these innocent souls.

The three girls were paralyzed in the corner of the small room that led out somewhere, the menacing aftermath of the siren holding them in a tight bundle. The sound of their own rushed heartbeat kept pounding beating in their ears, acting as a mere blessing as it blocked out all the scary sounds that existed. They did not know if they would face death today, but the suspense tending to whether they might live to see another day made them shiver.

Aleksander himself was petrified, but he held their hands, promising over and over again that he would keep them safe, despite knowing that his words did not mean anything. At this time, he only hoped that one of their Gods would protect them and shield them against these brutal, heartless guests that were a mere inch from invading the refuge that the barn had become for their family.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The world stopped completely. The clattering stopped. This was it, or was it?

"Open the door or face the wrath of ‘der Fuhrer’," a man with a thick accent ordered.

Pola rushed to the door, opened it slightly, and asked, "Is there something wrong?"

Suddenly, she was sent flying across the room as the sudden force of the door knocked her out by surprise. She ended up next to Bartek, who immediately took her into her arms while still praying silently and continuously. The impact made her dizzy and disoriented, blurring her vision until she suddenly saw a pair of large, booted feet stomping towards them, slowly and noisily, on the uneven floorboard. Although each step that the feet made towards them made them want to take two steps backward, they sat rooted in fear of what would happen next.

There he stood, towering over them, his 6'2 build making their much more miniature figures feel weak and powerless. He kept his mouth closed in a thin, straight line, and his hair – naturally dark brown but powdered to a bright white – were neatly tied and worn back to reveal a relatively broad forehead. He was proudly wearing the Wehrmacht Sadler above the right breast pocket of his buttoned shirt, his aluminum circular belt buckle with the words "Gott Mitt Uns" (God is with us) shining clearly in the light. On his head sat a peaked cap with a pair of braided silver cords. There resting on the sleeve was a Nazi sign which looked like a salute if looked upon closely.

He took off his cap and arched a sly smile at Pola, "Did I interrupt you from running away?"

"No, no, where would we go? This is our home. It is where we live." Pola replied, rather calmly and convincingly, hoping that the officer in front of her would not notice her shaking voice and hands, "We were just about to eat. Would you care to join us?"

He offered out his hand with a cheeky grin. "How could I say no to food? Call me Hugo."

Pola took his hand, smiling profusely at her attempts to divert the situation, and immediately hurried to the kitchen to prepare something to eat. Hugo sat himself down, at complete leisure, as if he had an ample amount of time and was in the comfort of his own home. Seconds later, Pola returned, armed with a tray full of bread and butter- the only thing they had in that barn at present, and placed it in front of the giant of a man who began to devour it.

Amidst eating, Hugo pointed the knife at Bartek and asked, "I hear you are helping out people who should not exist."

"Who may that be, we – "

Hugo slammed his fists on the table with sudden rage, sending shock waves into the table and the hearts of the already petrified couple's hearts.

"Do not play with me. Tell me where they are, and I will let you live", Hugo yelled as a vein from his neck threatened to pop out at any second. His pulse raced, and he breathed heavily, almost as if he was going to burst into a million pieces.

He waited for a few seconds but received no response to his demand. The silence that prevailed only heightened his anger, and he quickly snapped his fingers. Instantly, as if they were waiting for a command, two armed and uniformed soldiers marched right in, grabbed the helpless couple, and dragged them out of the room, giving them no mercy despite their loud cries of fear.

Nothing could save them. No one lived near, and even if they did, in such situations, no one dared to question the actions of the mighty army. The couple prayed and screamed, but it felt as if even the animals had turned a deaf ear to them, wanting to detach from the situation as much as possible.

They had dragged them through their hair into their barn. As they set into the barn, the unholy stench of manure and filthy straw was apparent. Several other soldiers pushed away a rusty pitchfork that lay in the middle and threw both of them on hay. The barn was quite derelict, the roof rusted throughout, and the missing pieces allowed glimpses of the moonlight to seep through.

As the soldiers began to pour petroleum on the couple and around them. Hugo raised his index finger and addressed them once again, "One last chance."

"We do not know. Please let us go," Pola pleaded.

Hugo took out his lighter and threw it on the trail of petroleum left by the soldiers. He stepped back as the menacing flames began to tower around the couple who had by this time come to terms with their fate. They sat quietly, holding their beloved in their arms one last time, praying for a miracle while accepting the inevitable.

As Hugo turned his head away, Paula taunted him. "You will never find them! They are long gone!" she stated, with the ghost of a bittersweet smile on her lips. Hugo, however, decided to ignore her words, for he knew better. He knew about the trapdoor that would lead him to his prey.

As for Pola and Bartek, they waited for the faith God had written down for them. They cried, shouted, and wailed helplessly, but to no avail. Slowly, after glancing at each other one last time, they closed their eyes as the monstrous fire kept ragging towards them. Amidst all the hue and crying, the fire gradually engulfed them with the help of strong sift winds until they were gone. Outside, their beloved horse could be heard neighing in pain and confusion, frightened by the onset of smoke.

The already night sky became flooded with a sea of pitch-black smoke, making the heavens above look magnificent and ominous. Then, something unexpected happened. Within seconds huge flames began to shoot upwards to the barn's ceiling, surrounding the whole area and blinding everyone in the vicinity. With the wind traveling east it quickly spread to the bungalow. The threatening soldiers, who were ready to barge through the trapdoor inside the barn just a few seconds ago, now had faces that were blank and empty. They walked straight out of the red barn, their faces held forward in a steady gaze, and had an air of authority that was palpable. Hugo ordered everyone to leave, satisfied with the assumption that no one would be able to come out of such a wild fire alive. The soldiers drove away with the sirens dissipating, almost as quickly as they had arrived, as if nothing had happened.

A few moments later, with his footsteps still filled with dread, Aleksander tiptoed out of the hidden trapdoor exit from the shed which was just a few feet west of the bungalow. What he saw, he knew, would traumatize him for his entire life. A roaring fire that towered towards the sky- burning the wood of his beloved barn- and his dearest parents, whom he loved more than life itself, lying down on the floor completely lifeless. He fell to the ground feeling weak and defeated. Though that moment seemed to have excruciating pain, Aleksander knew he must look at the bigger picture. His parents sacrificed themselves for the well-being of others, and he would make it his life's mission not to let their loss go in vain. "I will continue what my parents started," he decided, glancing backward at the three young girls that stood there, shocked at the horror and tragedy in front of their eyes.

Though he felt utterly alone in that current moment, Aleksander's mind drifted to what his mother would always say to him, that no matter what, God would always be with them. At this current time, Aleksander prayed and hoped with all that he had that this was true. After all, God did work in mysterious ways and had saved the four of them from their imminent demise. He felt that they were safe, safe in the hands of God. Nevertheless, with doubts troubling him again, he thought, for how long? No one knows. All he knew was that it was now his life's mission to keep these girls, and others like them, safe for as long as he lives and breathes in this life. The rest, well, that was just up to destiny.