Pennies for Hitler
“He dodged the tape, tripping over bricks but somehow managing not to cut his hands on glass. His palms stung a bit from the burn, but not too much.The streets looked almost like the hospital ward when he’d cut his foot, filled with people hurt, bleeding or sitting in shock: a strange hospital, with no walls and a red ceiling that pulsed fire. Bodies lay on stretchers. No, not bodies. These people moved, cried, screamed in pain. The real bodies were laid in groups: whole families, neighbours, fr...iends lying together in death.An old woman sat in a rocking chair, miraculously preserved even though the house it came from had crumbled, clutching a cage with a budgie in it. Incredibly the bird was chirruping. The woman smiled at Georg as he passed, as though all that mattered was her chair and her bird.He turned another corner, then thrust his hand into his mouth.Another pile of rubble spilled across the street.For a second he thought it was their block of flats, then he saw it was the block next door.Bits of brick and lengths of wall; smashed tables; a chair standing upright as though someone had put it there; a bundle of rags he hoped were clothes or towels, not what remained of a human.There was too much debris to get to the door of their own building.MoreLess
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