While the World Is Still Asleep (The Century Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

tough.”
    For the first time since this nightmare had begun, a gentle smile appeared on Josephine’s face. “Someone else once told me the same thing.”
    Martha, who obviously claimed Jo’s smile as a personal success, beamed. “A girlfriend? Do you have one?”
    Jo bit a chunk of the roll but said nothing. Did she have friends? God, yes, very good friends—the best anyone could imagine! She had been friends with Clara since she could walk and had known Isabelle since they were both small. But she and Isabelle had only really become close about a year and a half ago. And then there was Lilo down in the Black Forest.
    “They won’t want anything to do with me anymore,” Jo said. “Not after I got caught stealing from Isabelle’s father.” Jo felt nauseous at the memory of his actions on the night in question. Instead of talking to her, he had immediately filed a complaint with the police.
    “Oh,” said Martha, but she did not look as taken aback as she sounded. “Friends!” She gestured dismissively. “They probably tricked you somehow and you didn’t even notice. That’s the second thing we have in common. The first is that we both got here yesterday.”
    Josephine looked at Martha with annoyance. What nonsense was she spouting? They had nothing—not a single thing!—in common.
    Martha grasped Josephine’s right hand and squeezed it. “I can be your friend, if you’d like.”
    Josephine jerked her hand free. “Just because I helped you out of a jam yesterday doesn’t mean you have to stick to me like a burr! Let’s get one thing straight: in the future, you look out for yourself. I do not feel like—”
    A shrill bell sounded, cutting Josephine off.

    Karlheinz Krotzmann had just passed through the gatehouse of the Barnim Road Women’s Prison when he felt the old familiar rumbling in his stomach. His face contorted in pain as he surveyed the prison, which consisted of a U-shaped building housing several hundred inmates. The facility had been built a few years earlier by some notable architects, following a decision by the Royal Ministry of Justice. The left wing contained the apartments of the prison officers and the kitchens. The prison had its own boiler building and power plant that supplied the complex with power and light. Behind the main building were an orchard and a vegetable garden that were tended by the inmates. The architects had even added a prison chapel on the top floor.
    Karlheinz Krotzmann sniffed. He would have bet that hardly anybody here had ever set foot in that house of the Lord. His discomfort increased with every step. Although the building was no more than twenty years old, everything looked dilapidated. The footpath that led to the main building was uneven and potholed; the walls were stained or covered in moss. The windows were grimy, the bars rusted . . .
    These people are like animals! They destroy everything, without the slightest hesitation about the damage they’re doing, Krotzmann thought. He was glad that the start of his classes did not coincide with the release of the inmates into the yard. The idea of breathing the same air as murderers and thieves any more than he had to made him uneasy.
    He had almost reached the main block when he saw the caretaker coming around the corner pulling a handcart stacked with tools. The man lived in a small apartment on the premises and was busy with repairs from dawn till dusk. What a life! thought Krotzmann with a shudder, and he gave the caretaker a sympathetic nod. After a brief greeting, the man said, “I need a new helper. One of the younger ones for a change, I reckon. Maybe they’re not as degenerate as the adults. Can you send me someone at the end of your class?”
    Krotzmann nodded. He was responsible for assigning the young convicts to the laundry, the cleaning crews, and the kitchen.
    “Didn’t you have a skinny old woman helping you fix the chicken run fence last week? What happened to her?”
    The caretaker