Chapter 26 Stefan
TWENTY-SIX
STEFAN
SANOK, POLAND
My family is gone. The Nazis took them. We’re supposed to be protected from deportation or displacement from the factory agreement. There’s no way of knowing where they’ll be taken. Or if I’ll be able to find them. But I must find them.
Rosalie and I have pushed into the thick of the trees to the side of the main road that travels up the hill toward home. We’re both breathing so hard there’s a patch of fog encircling us from the damp air.
“They might have gone the other way,” Rosalie whispers. “There was a truck and a car.” Her voice shakes through every word. “I should have done something. I’m so sorry…I just—”
“This isn’t your fault,” I tell her.
“Your father saw me. He made it clear he didn’t want me to make my presence known.”
“Then you did what’s best,” I say, trying to keep the sound of my panic at bay. Though she doesn’t need to hear me to know what I’m feeling. The splotches of colorful auras and twitching nerves.
She sees. Nothing gets past her.
“We need your medicine. And—do you have all your documentation?”
Those are the thoughts that just began to percolate.
I have the last of the pills I’ll be able to get my hands on until the borders release power.
The pharmacist did all he could but warned me this day would come, and it came.
I have enough to last me almost two years.
I’ve been praying it’s enough. Now I’m praying I can retrieve it.
“I don’t have my medicine. Or any money.
I need to get back into the house,” I tell her.
Her eyes grow wide as she stares past me. “Don’t the Nazis only remove people from their homes when they’re billeting them?”
“From what I’ve heard, yes.” There’s a variety of stories. Some move in with families, others kick them out entirely. Apparently, our effort to scare them away from the facade of a dilapidated estate didn’t work.
“You can’t go back in there. They’ll know you aren’t in the United States,” she says.
“They couldn’t have possibly believed that. They know everything about everyone with the amount of census data they have.”
“The Nazis didn’t argue with him. They just forced them into the truck.”
Imagining them being treated that way, when I should have been by their side, will eat at me forever.
“You need to stay here. I’m going to check if they’re gone. If they are, I’ll go inside and grab your medicine.”
“No. No way. You’re not going back there yourself. I’m going with you. And the money, it’s under a floorboard. There’s no way you’ll find that,” I argue.
Rosalie drops her head into her red, cold hands. “We should stay in the woods and follow the road back up from here so we can see if the cars are gone.”
This is a bad idea, but also a choice we don’t have. Without my medication and money, we won’t survive.
The hike up the hill leaves us both breathless but also a sigh of relief when we see there aren’t any vehicles in front of the house.
“They must be gone,” I say.
“Are you confident?” Rosalie asks, still staring toward the front door.
“Yes. Not one of those Nazis would walk up here on foot or stay behind, stranded.”
“Very well. Then I’m going in myself first and when I confirm no one is inside, I’ll come back for you.”
She’s cornered me in a duel I didn’t know we were fighting. “No, I’m coming in with you.”
“It’s life or death, Stefan. Whether you’re confident or not that no one was left behind, a mistake will cost you your life. I won’t let that happen.”
“Forget it. We’ll wait. I can go a day without my medicine. We’ll go to the factory. There’s a place we can hide out in there that will be safe. We’ll figure the rest out from there,” I press.
“If the Nazis aren’t here now, they will be. They didn’t just kick your family out for fun, especially with that protection clause. They’ll be back, and likely before tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving me with no option,” I say with a frustrated groan. “I need to keep you safe, despite your determination to throw yourself into danger.”
“I’m not a flower, Stefan. I’m not going to wilt upon entering your house. I’m nothing to the Reich. That isn’t the same for you. Let me now take that advantage and make sure it’s safe to go back inside.”
“I won’t agree,” I tell her, my stubbornness doing little for me.
“Then don’t,” she says. Her breath hitches as she breaks our stare. “Ju-just wait…here.” She stalls for only a short second before jolting out of the woods to a sharp right behind another tree and doing that twice more before stepping out of the woods and trekking up the pebbled driveway.
My chest tightens, vision stutters along darkening edges.
My legs begin to shake. Arms, too. Muscles fizz like static, convulsing against my control.
I lean into the tree, using it to hold up my weight as Rosalie makes her way to the front steps.
She presses her ear to the door, then squeezes the thumb latch on the handle.
She slips inside and closes the door behind her.
Breathe. In and out.
In and out.
It’s all I can do.
It’s the hardest thing to do.
The pop and crackle of tires against rubble yank my attention toward the road where I spot a black Mercedes, adorned with swastikas, pulling up in front of the house.
Ice runs through my veins as I clutch the tree with both arms, watching the worst thing I can imagine happen before my eyes.
I can’t even call for her or warn her. The estate, once our haven, is now nothing more than a trap.
Rosalie is now a hostage of the house with no way out unless she sees this car and makes her way out the back door before it’s too late. I want to throw a rock at the top floor window. But the man in the car will see. He’s just waiting there.
As if he’s waiting for something specific.
He’ll see if Rosalie opens the front door.
A flash of motion to the left catches my attention. An object seemingly falls from the sky, but it must be from the top floor side window. The man can’t see from his angle. The paper-wrapped objects fall one by one into a pile of snow. It must be her. Unless it’s not…
Minutes pass and we’re all stranded in a frozen globe with the world spinning around us. The silence consuming me as thin twigs snap beneath my boots.
The faint sound of footsteps crunching in snow comes from the distance ahead and I search between both sides of the house. It isn’t just one set of footsteps.
My stomach burns as I keel forward.
A spasm quakes through my core.
An SS officer has Rosalie by the arm.
She won’t look in this direction.
My knees give out. I fall to the muddy snow, shivering and shaking.
The fight between my muscles and nerves holds me still and conscious, to bear witness to my worst fear. I never should have promised her father I could protect her when it’s clear I don’t always have full control over my own body.
The struggle to pull myself back up to my feet is unbearable as I scrape my fingernails down the tree bark in a failing attempt.
He’s taking her to the car. I clench my eyes and inhale through my nose, trying to slow my breathing, slow my heart rate, do what I can to recover from the tremor rumbling through me. They can’t take her. They can’t.
My knees finally comply and lock into place. I shove myself from the tree, moving toward the gravel with unsteady steps. Just as I step out of the woods, the Mercedes sinks beneath the hill, taking Rosalie with it.
The quiet lingering in the exhaust fumes is louder than the screams echoing in my head. Alone, without a ledge to hang from, my stomach sinks, my heart deflates. I promised her father I would protect her, but I’ve let them take Rosalie against her will. All because I couldn’t even stand.
First my family, now her. The only people who have ever shown me undying love, overlooked my weaknesses, saw me for my strengths. They believed I was capable of anything, and I’ve let them all down.
As if the sky hadn’t already become dark enough, a heavier set of clouds move in, and steal what warmth was left.
I drop to my knees, clawing my fingertips into ice-lined sludge, enduring cold shards that bite into my flesh.
I want to tear at the ground and scream until my throat splits open, but even that isn’t a choice.
I can’t make a sound, or they’ll come back for me.
Then I won’t be able to help any of them.
I press my fist to my mouth and bite until I taste blood and dirt, then choke on the pain writhing through my veins.
Rage spears through me as I push myself up and race for the driveway, searching for the tracks the Mercedes left behind, like two deep slashes cut into a white quilt, leading down the hill and into the fog.
They disappeared into the fog—a blur of a world I no longer recognize.
Stranger or not to a place I’m unwanted, I’m not done here.
I will find them.
I will find her.
Even if it kills me.