Tulips in Her Hand

Chapter Nine

A few minutes later, Celina heard it too.

The coughs were faint at first, mere background noises erupting from the basement, but then they began exploding with greater gusto into Celina's ears. She froze, every nerve in her body flashing warning signals. Mariusz's eyes were wide with caution. Had Anka checked the basement? No, of course she hadn't. Her main focus was on Mariusz.

"Anka," Celina hissed, "Anka, wake up. Did you check the basement when we first arrived?"

Anka yawned, exhaustion from the day hitting her harder than ever. Bits of hair clung to her damp cheeks. Stretching, she blinked her eyes into focus. Seeing Mariusz awake, her eyes light up with excitement like the flames that danced before her, then immediately fell when the realization hit her. No, she had not checked the basement.

Mariusz nodded, attempting to climb down from the couch. His body trembled, however, strained from the day's exertions.

Celina sighed and bit her lip. "Wait, Mariusz, get back on the couch. You're still recovering," she frowned, the weight of what she was about to do dwelling above her, "I'll go. It's fine, I can handle it." Celina inhaled, holding her breath. She rose from the ground and crept over to the top of the steps. Anka's eyes widened in fear, darting back and forth between Celina and the basement. Good luck, she mouthed. Mariusz's nodded in encouragement.

Her hands trembling, Celina was thrust into the depths of the basement. The cool, musty air hit her in the face. The coughs had subsided slightly, replaced with the sounds of heavy breathing. Inhale, exhale. Celina couldn't tell the difference between her breath and that of the figure below. Her feet climbed down the steps in trepidation, and instantly she was greeted with the faint glow of a candle.

Taking shelter behind a wall, Celina peeked out from behind a corner. She was met with the figure of a man, cradled between a pile of drop sheets and cans. Fear rose in Celina's throat. The man was definitely in a uniform of some sorts. Sucking in her breath, her eye's strained to pick up the color of the uniform.

The man had hair the color of autumn leaves, that much Celina could tell from the glowing candlelight. His head rested on the drop sheets, his entire body lying still. Squinting, Celina made out the hue of the uniform. Olive. It was an olive green. This man was American, not only American but a pilot. Celina steadied her quivering hand, tiptoeing forward ever so slightly into the damp darkness. The air smelled of sweat and canned lunch meat. Wrinkling her nose, Celina studied the American man before her.

She could not help but noticed the scarlet red stain splattered throughout the soldier's uniform.

Gasping inwardly, Celina felt a pang of sympathy in her gut. It was soon replaced with a paralyzing fear, however, as soon as she crept up to the top of the steps. For an American soldier was a criminal in the eyes of the German. Celina was now hiding with not two, but three fugitives.

Mariuz and Anka locked eyesight with her as soon as she made it into the living room. Celina could scarcely hear the sound of her own voice over her heart pounding in her chest. Mariusz held a finger to his lips, every action silent and collected, repeatedly asking her to slow down. His voice had a soothing, melodious effect that did eventually tame Celina's pounding heart.

"A soldier," she finally said, "There's an American soldier in the basement. He's injured too. I think he was a pilot."

Mariusz nodded slowly, his face knit in concentration. Anka leaped up from her pile of blankets, every part of her body trembling with motivation. "We have to go down there and save him!" she declared. Her confident tone shocked Celina, nearly prompting her to dart away. Never had she seen Anka so bold, especially not when it came to anyone besides her family.