From A NIGHT DIVIDEDIt was still very early in the morning, and large bulldozers could be heard, already tearing down homes or hundred-year-old trees that were in the way of the fence. Along with most of the people in my neighborhood, I stood on the road, facing the guns that faced us. Mama held one of my hands and Fritz held the other. No one around me cried, and not even the strongest men fought back. Why didn't we? I looked around, waiting for someone to rush at the officers in a cry for freedom. Then others would join in and fight until we overpowered the guards and showed them we refused to be held in here like criminals. Or until enough of us were shot. The guards looked prepared to do that, if necessary. Probably everyone here already understood that, because like me, they only stood and watched. Maybe we were all too empty for tears, and too horrified for words. When I asked Fritz when Papa and Dominic would be able to come home, he only knelt beside me and shook his head. Quietly, he whispered, "Papa was a part of the resistance, Gerta, or they think he was. As long as that fence is up, they will never let him come home, and he won't send Dominic back to this place. But don't worry, I'm sure it can't last long." The people around me had already given a name to this day: Barbed Wire Sunday. The day that divided a city, and eventually a country. Worst of all, the day that divided my family. The sun warmed my back as it slowly rose in the east, and I shivered against it. This early morning light had not ended the long, dark night. No. For us, the dark night had only begun. Excerpted from A Night Divided by Jennifer A. Nielsen All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.