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go together nicely.”
    “I’ll get it,” said Helmut.
    Suddenly the pantry filled with light. Helmut walked in and grabbed a bottle from a high shelf at the front. His face looked pale and tense, but when he caught my eye and saw me somewhat hidden, his shoulders relaxed. He backed out and I was plunged again into darkness.
    Cupboards squeaked open and glasses tinkled. Chairs scraped along the floor. I figured they were all sitting around the table, sipping on vodka and nibbling fresh buns.
    “Will you be staying the night?” Margarete asked.
    “I must get back to the camp. I was just on my way back from town and had a moment to drive by. We’ve had some problems.”
    “Problems?”
    “The munitions factory was bombed — a few weeks back. A lot of our labourers were there. Many killed. Many more wounded. That’s not the bad part — such things happen in war. But one escaped from the hospital, and that’s given the other prisoners ideas.”
    “I am sure it will blow over,” said Margarete.
    “I hope so, Mutti,” Martin replied. “But I can’t be gone too long.”
    There was the sound of a long sip and then the clatter of a glass being put down on the table with a bit too much force. “To make matters worse, we’re getting new shipments every day. The Soviets are closing in and the eastern camps are being evacuated. We’re getting their prisoners.”
    “Then you have more help in the munitions plant,” said Helmut.
    “These new ones are worthless,” said Martin. “They’re starved to the point of death. I can’t use them.”
    I clenched my fists. These were living, breathing humans he was talking about.
    The sound of liquid tinkling into a glass. “You’ve got my old atlas out,” said Officer Schmidt. “What a relic that is.”
    “Yes,” said Margarete. “We were just saying the same to each other. The Reich has certainly expanded.”
    “I wish it were still expanding,” said Officer Schmidt. “These are darker days. Any letters from Claus?”
    “No,” said Helmut. “We’re worried. Have you heard anything?”
    “Not directly,” said Officer Schmidt. “But I’ve had word that the Soviets recaptured Kyiv just a few days ago.”
    “Was there much to recapture?” asked Helmut.
    Helmut was probably being wily, asking this question for me.
    “Next to nothing. We succeeded in starving out the city before it was recaptured.”
    I felt like punching something. Kyiv destroyed, and here I was, hiding out in the enemy’s house. I had to get out of here. I had to fight. Exactly how or what, I had no idea.
    Martin stayed and drank and talked for a while longer. It was getting so late that I was sure he would decide to stay over, but then his chair scraped back on the kitchen floor.
    “I need to be going,” he said. “It’s been so good to visit with you, Mutti, Vati.”
    The sound of squeaking hinges, then the pantry doors shook slightly from a gust of wind. Grunts of exertion and heavy footsteps, then a large object being dragged across the floor.
    “Do you want me to put these things into the pantry for you before I go?” Martin asked.
    I held my breath.
    “No,” said Margarete. I caught the nervous catch in her voice. I hoped Officer Schmidt would not. “You must be on your way. And I need to sort it all out before I put it away.”
    Moments after Officer Schmidt left, light flooded into the pantry. I got to my feet. A bag sat in the middle of the table, cherry buns spilling out of it.
    On the floor between the pantry and the table was a large burlap sack. I was still trying to digest the fact that Officer Schmidt had been mere inches away from me.
    “I want to leave right now. ”
    “Sit down and listen to us,” said Margarete.
    I slumped down in the chair. Why hadn’t they told me who their son was?
    “We haven’t seen Martin for a while,” said Helmut. “We are not on good terms.”
    “You seemed on good terms to me.”
    Margarete went into another room, coming