Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(99)

Klara keeps walking. “Ignore her. That’s what Mother says to do.”

“Watch me!” Lotte shouts again.

Sophie turns her head. Lotte is unsteady. She’s out of her depth, too high.

“Lotte … come down,” Sophie says.

“I told you, ignore her!” Klara tuts.

“I can do it!” Lotte shouts, more determined than ever to prove herself. She makes a hasty grab for a branch slightly out of reach. But she’s leaned out too far and gravity always wins. Lotte loses her balance. As she falls, she reminds Sophie of a dying bird. The fall seems to exist outside of time, and then time catches up. Lotte hits the hard ground with a sickening thump. For a terrible moment, it’s as if every molecule of air has been sucked up and held in the clouds’ tight fists. And then Lotte’s scream is everywhere.

“Lotte!” Klara gasps. She runs toward her sister, the others following. Below the knee, Lotte’s leg juts out at an unnatural angle. Blood seeps through her white sock in a fast-spreading stain.

“Lotte! Lotte, you stupid girl—what have you done! Oh, Lotte! Poor little mouse!”

Lotte has stopped crying and that is more frightening. She stares straight ahead and shivers.

“She is going into shock,” Karl says.

On the road, Herr Jaeger’s truck arrives. Hanna runs toward it at breakneck speed, waving her arms. The truck slows to a stop. Hanna points toward the tree, and in a moment, two soldiers hurry across the field. They lift Lotte in their arms and carry her to their truck for the drive into Kleinwald.

“Lay her down in the back. Careful,” Herr Jaeger orders the soldiers.

Dutifully, they peel back the truck’s canvas flaps. On the floor is the graceful doe from the forest, her soft fur stiffening with dried blood. A precise bullet hole has pierced the center of her head between her big brown eyes, which are still wide open, staring into nothing.





BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.


SPRING 2020

Chloe and Miles have hit a wall in their research. It’s Egon Wagner. They’ve got his sketches, a “New to Kleinwald” column, and a photo of his painting—the one of Hanna as the Valkyrie—from an exhibit on Nazi propaganda. But they still don’t know whether he was the one who betrayed Die Eichel. The services of a tech god are required. They need Danny Kim.

“So have you guys talked about Halloween at all?” Danny asks.

“No.”

Danny shakes his head. “I don’t get you two, man.”

“We’re friends again. That’s it.”

“I don’t know if you’re more full of shit for thinking I believe that or for telling yourself that’s true,” Danny says.

“Just … behave, okay?” Miles warns.

Chloe clicks on. The three of them are now small Zoom boxes on Miles’s computer.

“Hey!”

“Heyyyy,” Danny says. There’s the weird long-time-amiright conversation. Danny and Chloe discuss colleges—“Stanford,” Chloe says. “Damn, girl.” Danny snaps. “I’m NYU.” Miles says nothing.

“So, Miles tells me you found something?” Chloe prompts.

“Yeah. So. At first I thought Nacht und Nebel was one of those Norwegian death metal bands. You know, Guten Morgen, death, death, death!” Danny launches into full metal-drummer, arms flailing. Chloe has described him as a four-lane highway with no stoplights.

Chloe private chats Miles. I will never understand how you two became friends.

Becca Minsky’s bat mitzvah. He kept me from having to dance. I owe him forever, Miles types back.

Danny makes a stank-face. “Are y’all talking shit about me already?”

“No,” Chloe says at the same time Miles says, “Yes.”

“Just like old times,” Danny mutters. He smirks. “Or is it?”

“Tell her what you found,” Miles adds before Danny can say anything he shouldn’t.

“Right!” Danny grins, pleased with himself. “The parental units made me do tech summer camp in New Hampshire where I was eaten alive by bugs and got the runs from a bad hamburger. BUT! Plus side: I met some junior hackers there…”

“That’s reassuring,” Chloe says. Is he gonna get us on a No Fly List, she texts Miles.

“They taught me how to find, like, pretty much anything. So. I did an advanced search on your Egon intel and anything connected to Kleinwald, the Ministry of Public Enlightenment, Oktoberfest, dirndl porn…”

“DanDan,” Miles warns.

“Dude. Hate the sin, love the sinner. Anyway, I got hella interested in that Bridegroom’s Oak. I was thinking about the symbolism of the oak and the acorn.”

“Hold up. Have you actually been paying attention in class all these years?” Miles teases.

“I had a crush on Ms. Valerie, my eighth-grade lit teacher. But I loved symbolism because it was like a language under the language. Code. Basically. I started thinking about how the acorn is like a symbol of hope for a future that we can’t see yet. So that painting you sent me from the museum, the Valkyrie and oak tree? I contacted the museum for a hi-res and … can you see?”

“Yeah, but what am I looking for?” Chloe asks.

“Look really close at the tree trunk. At first I thought it was just weird bark. But there’s a message hidden inside the lines. I can’t pronounce it.”