There’ll Be Bluebirds Over…

            “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” the man in the passenger seat says slowly. He looks at me in the rearview mirror, giving me a snide smirk.

            “Wunderbar,” I reply after a moment’s hesitation. I look out the window at the hills of South Germany. Buildings have long since been replaced by trees. Civilization is sparse compared to that of Munich. We’ve been driving for nearly two hours, and by my estimate, we’re just south of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. That puts us very close to the border of Osterreich.

            “Clear,” the driver comments. I look up. The stars are visible and bright against the blackness of the sky. It is a beautiful night, but only in appearance.

            My heart is thudding in my chest and sweat is beading on my forehead. I take in staggered, wheezing breaths. I can’t keep my hands still. All of these things will give me away. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, holding it before letting it out slowly, and clasp my hands together to steady their shaking. I can think of only one reason why these men would pick me up on the streets as I walked home from school. Only one reason why they would take me so far from home without giving me an explanation or telling me where we’re going. And that reason is my best friend Ari.

            I can’t control myself. My eyes open themselves and my breaths become increasingly frantic as I imagine Ari being taken in by the Gestapo. The terrible things they would do to him…that they would do to my family. And me.

            “Are you alright, Alaric?” Herr Hoffman asks me from the passenger seat.

            I close my eyes again and breathe slowly, willing myself to relax. It will be fine. This has nothing to do with Ari. They don’t suspect a thing. I’m an outstanding member of the HJ. And besides, Herr Hoffman works with my father. He’s a businessman, not an SS. He would be the last person involved in matters concerning Jews.