The Shadows of Risistance

Zander lay awake, half-conscious on his hard stone bed. The room around him was completely dark. He stared at the shadows until something happened. One of the shadows pounced on him. Zander tried to scream, but a hand cupped over his mouth and stifled it. Then Zander realized that this hand was about the size of his. In the darkness, Zander could just about make out the shape of a boy about his age, dressed in black.

“I’ll let you go if you promise not to scream,” a voice said.

Zander nodded. The hand went away.

“Who are you?” Zander stammered.

“My name is Nicholas,” the voice said. “And don’t worry, I’m on your side.”

“What are you doing here?” Zander asked.

“I saw you being captured. I followed those Nazi soldiers. And then I planned. It’s easier to infiltrate a dungeon than it sounds.”

Zander blinked in disbelief. “You’re part of the Resistance?”

Nicholas nodded, though the motion was barely visible in the dark. “Yes. And we don’t leave people behind.”

Zander's heart pounded. Thoughts of his friends rushed through his mind. Caleb, Asher, Leif — had they escaped? Were they safe?

“We need to get out of here,” Zander said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nicholas reached into a small satchel at his side, producing a crude metal tool. “That’s why I’m here.” He knelt beside the door, his fingers deftly working at the lock. Minutes passed, the tension thick. Finally, there was a faint click.

The door creaked open.

“Stay close,” Nicholas whispered. “The guards change shifts soon. We don’t have much time.”

Zander followed Nicholas through the narrow stone corridor. The air was thick and stale, every step echoing slightly despite their best efforts. Dim torchlight flickered along the walls, casting long shadows that seemed to dance ominously.

“How did you get in here?” Zander asked in a hushed voice.

“Tunnels,” Nicholas replied. “The Resistance has been using the old catacombs beneath the fortress. The Nazis have no idea how deep they go.”

As they crept through the passageways, Nicholas suddenly pulled Zander against the wall. Footsteps echoed from around the corner. A pair of Nazi soldiers passed, their voices low and gruff. Zander held his breath until they disappeared into the shadows.

“That was close,” Nicholas murmured. “Come on.”

They slipped down another corridor until they reached a rusted grate. Nicholas pried it open with effort, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel that descended into the earth.

“This leads to the catacombs,” Nicholas said. “Once we’re down there, we’ll be safe.”

Zander hesitated. “My friends,” he said, his voice breaking. “I need to find them.”

Nicholas looked at him, his eyes understanding. “We’ll find them,” he promised. “But first, we need to get out.”

With a nod, Zander followed him into the darkness. The tunnel walls were damp and cold, the air thick with the scent of earth. They navigated through the winding passages, the distant sounds of the fortress fading behind them.

After what felt like hours, they emerged into a large cavern. Flickering lanterns illuminated the faces of people — members of the Resistance. Some tended to the wounded, others prepared supplies.

The cavern buzzed with energy. Resistance members huddled in makeshift stations, exchanging information and tending to injured allies. Maps were pinned to the walls, detailing the enemy’s positions and patrol routes.

“You’re lucky,” Nicholas said, motioning to Zander. “We intercepted a radio transmission. Your friends escaped. But we believe they’re hiding in the outskirts of Normandy.”

Zander’s chest tightened. “Normandy?”

Nicholas nodded. “That’s where the fighting is the worst. The invasion is well underway.”

A middle-aged man in a tattered coat approached, his eyes filled with resolve. “If you’re determined to find your friends, we can help. But it’s dangerous. The Nazis are searching for any Resistance members they can find.”

“I have to go,” Zander said firmly. “I won’t leave them behind.”

Nicholas nodded approvingly. “Then we’ll leave at dawn.”

That night, Zander rested among the stone walls of the cavern. Despite the looming threat of battle, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope. The Resistance was more than just fighters. They were people who stood against darkness.

Tomorrow, they would face the war head-on. And Zander knew, no matter what, he would find his friends. Together, they would keep fighting.

The following morning, the Resistance camp was already bustling. Supplies were packed, weapons prepared, and scouts returned with information from the surrounding area. Zander stood with Nicholas, studying the map spread out before them.

“The outskirts of Normandy are swarming with soldiers,” Nicholas pointed. “But here, near the ruins of an old farmhouse, our scouts reported movement. It could be your friends.”

Zander’s fists clenched with determination. “Then we’ll go.”

The group set out, the early light filtering through the cracks of the cavern as they emerged. The air was thick with smoke and the distant echoes of gunfire. Every step forward brought them closer to the frontlines — and closer to the unknown.