Blumen Fire

Chapter 4 *** (EILA'S POV)

It was winter at the concentration camp. Inside the tent strewn with rags lay a young woman, her ribs prominent with hunger, her eyes hollow with anger. Her hair, recently cut, fell like a thick waterfall slightly past her chin.

As the first rays of the glittering winter sun flew into the sky, Eila stood up, stretched like a cat, and went to her next job, which was chopping down trees. As she began chopping, she accidentally touched something feathered with her bare foot. Bending down in the cover of the trees, she saw a small bird, something that she knew to be a dove. It had long tawny feathers, but its eyes were closed, and a small red dart was strewn through its neck. Clenching her teeth, Eila pulled the dart out, tossed it over the barbed wire fence, and picked up the bird. It was breathing faintly, its long tail drooping off of her arm. Eila made a decision–it was going to live.

After the wood chopping was over, she trekked back to the girls' tent and the small corner she always occupied when she slept, although they were packed tightly together. Kneeling, she began to dig. Half an hour later, there was a small hollow of packed dirt in the corner of the tent. Eila wiped her hands on the rags and gathered clean ones, laying them like a blanket to cover the hard ground. Then, she quietly took the dove and set it down into the Hollow, adding a few rags so that it could breathe, but it was still hidden.

She leaned down. "You're going to live," she murmured. "I name you Iris."

Maya was jittery, being taught how to use a gun and a knife. Maya sighed. This was for her sister. Maya was terrible at handling a gun, but great at using the knife. Oliver excelled at the gun, but couldn't get a knife grip well. They were a great combination, if they were partners.

Oliver paused as he was about to shoot at a dummy that Virginia had given. They were in the backyard of his house, Mochi nowhere to be seen. He aimed and shot its eye with perfect targeting and sat back, satisfied. He frowned.

"I have an idea," he murmured, setting down the gun and turning it off.

Maya, as flexible as she was, flipped over and kicked the dummy in the face. Then, suddenly, it had a knife in its head.

Oliver straightened up. "Come on," he beckoned, and raced into the house. Maya ran after him. He flew up the stairwell and opened a door that Maya had never been into. It led into a vast rectangular room with peeling gray wallpaper, frames of skulls and dogs, and a lumpy bed with no pillows. There was a small closet in a corner. Maya stepped into the room. Oliver opened it and stepped inside, rummaging for a little until he came out again with a small black case. Maya tilted her head in confusion.

"This is it," he murmured. "I should've known he would've had it." Quietly, he knelt on the floor as if handling a fragile glass vase and slowly opened the box to reveal an item draped in some kind of velvet. It was very expensive.

"What..?" Maya whispered, and peeked over Oliver's shoulder.

He took off the velvet to reveal a smooth, gleaming pistol. Running a hand over it, he picked it up and switched it on. Taking careful aim, he aimed it at the box and blew at the keyhole. The lock exploded, turning the box into wooden splinters. Maya jolted up, listening instantly. A gunshot rang, and Maya stepped near the window. There were.. guards.

Oliver, eyes widening in panic, picked up the bag he carried with him at all times, with the med kit and all the food, clothes, and supplies. He hesitated, took the velvet, and put it inside the bag with difficulty, guilt showing in his eyes, but he didn't talk. Picking up the gun, he aimed it at the doorway.

Maya stopped him from leaving. She heard footsteps. "Hush." Suddenly, then she smashed her shoulder against the window, and leapt out, rolling on the grass.