ago.”
“During World War Two,” I add, putting the pieces together.
“I was a history teacher for thirty years,” he sighs. “I thought I’d seen it all, too. But this…this is a takeover. They’re killing off anyone they think might get in their way. I saw this once, more than sixty years ago. Never thought I’d see it here. And who knows how far it’s spread?”
I stare at my coffee, suddenly feeling sick.
“You saw this before inGermany,” I say, bringing my eyes up to his.
He says nothing.
“I’m only alive right now because I wasn’t stupid enough to run into the streets when everything went to hell,” he replies, standing up again. “But I’ll run out of food eventually. Not that I’m upset about that. I’m old enough to die, don’t you think?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Self pity much?” I say before I can stop myself.
Walter rubs his hands on his pants again – a nervous habit, I’m guessing.
“Do you live here alone?” Chris asks, his voice low.
“Now I do.” Walter paces to the window, the one nailed over with curtains. “They took my wife. First day. She went downstairs…haven’t seen her since.”
My throat seizes up.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
He waves me off.
“It was her decision, not mine,” he answers, but his voice is shaky.
“Thank you for letting us stay here,” I tell him.
“You’re not staying here,” he corrects, turning around. His eyes are bright with tears from speaking about his wife. My heart breaks just looking at him. “I brought you here so you wouldn’t be shot on the streets. If you try to get out by just walking through the town, you’re dead. They’ve got guards posted on every block that leads out of the city.”
“We got into the city fine,” I point out.
“They’re not trying to stop people from coming in ,” Walter says, picking up the coffeepot. Pouring a cup. “They’re keeping people from coming out .”
Chris rests his arm against the back of the sofa.
“What are you saying, old man?”
Walter breaks into a wide smile.
“I know a safe way out of the city,” he grins.
“And?”
“And to be honest, I just wanted to see if somebody could really pull it off.”
Chris stands up, drinking the entire contents of the coffee cup in one gulp.
“Details?” he asks.
“There are tunnels under the city,” Walter explains. “My wife…” he clears his throat, “was an architect. She helped build them. They were abandoned about fifteen years ago. I know how to get in, and all you have to do is follow them until you come to the end, which is well outside the city limits.”
“Are you serious?” I exclaim. “Tunnels under the city?”
“All cities have secrets,” Walter shrugs.
“How do we get to these tunnels?” Chris asks, not nearly as impressed as me.
“I’ll show you,” Walter says, “but we can’t do it until it gets dark. It’s too easy to be caught otherwise.”
“Why haven’t you gotten out of the city through the tunnels?” I demand, looking for a trap. “If they’re such a good escape route, why are you still here?”
“Sweetheart, I’m over eighty-seven years old,” he replies, the corners of his mouth
“During World War Two,” I add, putting the pieces together.
“I was a history teacher for thirty years,” he sighs. “I thought I’d seen it all, too. But this…this is a takeover. They’re killing off anyone they think might get in their way. I saw this once, more than sixty years ago. Never thought I’d see it here. And who knows how far it’s spread?”
I stare at my coffee, suddenly feeling sick.
“You saw this before inGermany,” I say, bringing my eyes up to his.
He says nothing.
“I’m only alive right now because I wasn’t stupid enough to run into the streets when everything went to hell,” he replies, standing up again. “But I’ll run out of food eventually. Not that I’m upset about that. I’m old enough to die, don’t you think?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Self pity much?” I say before I can stop myself.
Walter rubs his hands on his pants again – a nervous habit, I’m guessing.
“Do you live here alone?” Chris asks, his voice low.
“Now I do.” Walter paces to the window, the one nailed over with curtains. “They took my wife. First day. She went downstairs…haven’t seen her since.”
My throat seizes up.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
He waves me off.
“It was her decision, not mine,” he answers, but his voice is shaky.
“Thank you for letting us stay here,” I tell him.
“You’re not staying here,” he corrects, turning around. His eyes are bright with tears from speaking about his wife. My heart breaks just looking at him. “I brought you here so you wouldn’t be shot on the streets. If you try to get out by just walking through the town, you’re dead. They’ve got guards posted on every block that leads out of the city.”
“We got into the city fine,” I point out.
“They’re not trying to stop people from coming in ,” Walter says, picking up the coffeepot. Pouring a cup. “They’re keeping people from coming out .”
Chris rests his arm against the back of the sofa.
“What are you saying, old man?”
Walter breaks into a wide smile.
“I know a safe way out of the city,” he grins.
“And?”
“And to be honest, I just wanted to see if somebody could really pull it off.”
Chris stands up, drinking the entire contents of the coffee cup in one gulp.
“Details?” he asks.
“There are tunnels under the city,” Walter explains. “My wife…” he clears his throat, “was an architect. She helped build them. They were abandoned about fifteen years ago. I know how to get in, and all you have to do is follow them until you come to the end, which is well outside the city limits.”
“Are you serious?” I exclaim. “Tunnels under the city?”
“All cities have secrets,” Walter shrugs.
“How do we get to these tunnels?” Chris asks, not nearly as impressed as me.
“I’ll show you,” Walter says, “but we can’t do it until it gets dark. It’s too easy to be caught otherwise.”
“Why haven’t you gotten out of the city through the tunnels?” I demand, looking for a trap. “If they’re such a good escape route, why are you still here?”
“Sweetheart, I’m over eighty-seven years old,” he replies, the corners of his mouth
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