"How did you do that?" I gasped, turning to my sister, Susan. The words tumbled out, laced with a mixture of shock and awe at her quick thinking.
Susan's eyes, usually so soft, hardened with a flicker of something I couldn't quite decipher. "I planned everything, just in case," she said, her voice tight with a suppressed anger.
"You know, I've gotten a lot smarter ever since you, Ma, and Pa would talk about things, and I wasn't allowed to hear."
A heavy silence descended between us, filled only by the rhythmic scuff of our shoes on the rough pavement.
Each step felt like a drumbeat, counting down the seconds until our inevitable discovery. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of our shared secret pressing down on us.
My mind replayed Susan's words. Had she truly been listening all this time, piecing together fragments of conversations we thought were beyond her understanding?
It was unsettling, yet undeniably impressive.
We walked in silence for what felt like an eternity, the shadows stretching long and distorted around us as the late afternoon sun began its slow descent.
Every rustle of leaves, every distant dog bark, sent a jolt of fear through me. My hand instinctively reached for Susan's, seeking comfort in her presence. She squeezed my hand reassuringly, a silent promise of solidarity.
Then, as we rounded a sharp corner, we saw him. "It's the boy !" I shrieked, my voice tearing through the stillness. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird desperate to escape.
I lunged forward, desperate to grab Susan's hand, to pull her away from the looming danger.
"Wait!" he called out, his voice surprisingly calm despite my outburst. I paused, my feet rooted to the spot, a sudden, inexplicable hesitation washing over me.
"Don't go. I'm not going to turn you in. I can help."
His words, though laced with an offer of assistance, immediately triggered Ma's stern warning echoing in my mind: Trust no one.
"Run!" I screamed, the word ripped from my throat as I finally broke free of my stupor and bolted. But before I could take more than a few desperate strides, a hand clamped firmly on my arm, pulling me to an abrupt halt.
"Cassandra, stop! We need to listen. I think he can help us," Susan's voice was firm, laced with an unusual authority that made me pause.
I turned to my sister, my breath ragged, my chest heaving. She gestured subtly towards the relative safety of the sidewalk, her eyes meeting mine with an unwavering gaze that spoke of a conviction I couldn't ignore.
Reluctantly, I obeyed, my senses still on high alert, every fiber of my being screaming for me to run.
"Tell us," Susan said, her voice steady and clear as she faced towards the boy named Lude, "how can you help?"
Lude stepped forward, his expression earnest, his eyes holding a surprising depth. "I know where Treblinka is, and I can travel you there."
A cold shiver snaked down my spine. Treblinka. The name was a whispered horror, a chilling reality that had haunted our waking thoughts and twisted our dreams into nightmares.
"How did you know we were heading to Treblinka" my voice standing its ground.
"I heard you and I'm inferring this as your sister, talking about traveling to Treblinka". He said gesturing to Susan.
A part of me, a deep, primal instinct, knew he was telling the truth, yet the sheer enormity of his claim was almost impossible to believe.
"Are you working with the White Rose?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, hoping against hope that he was connected to the underground resistance movement we'd heard whispers about.
He shook his head slowly. "No, I'm not part of the white rose, and I am German, but I truly have no intention to harm you."